


Haunted Water

by Simarillion



Series: Swamp Country (Chronicles) [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-03
Updated: 2010-04-03
Packaged: 2017-10-08 16:39:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 44,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simarillion/pseuds/Simarillion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young guy disappears in the Louisiana swamps. Sam and Dean are sent by Bobby to take care of the case. But there is more going on than they are first aware of and they are forced to re-evaluate certain things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: None of the characters of the Supernatural show are mine. They all belong to The CW network and Eric Kripke. I make no money with any of this.
> 
> A/N: Me writing incest? Well, apparently it does happen. Taking a small break from my usual fandom and writing a birthday gift for rotschopf. I know this is very late and I also know that you wanted an Original but, um, I hope this is alright as well.

_Houma, Louisiana  
Two Weeks Ago_

"Come on Carrie, what are you so scared of?" Neil holds out his hand to her and winks to get her to come closer. "Grab my hand and let's get going. The others are already waiting for us."

Carrie is still not convinced that throwing some kind of Halloween party out here in the swamps is the best idea, but she doesn't want to have to go back to the car on her own. No fucking way. Glancing one last time at the pitch black water on their right, she reaches out to Neil and takes his hand. They are sweaty and a tiny bit clammy. Somehow it makes her feel better, knowing that Neil is a little scared, too.

"Come on, it's not far to the clearing. Bobby showed me where it is this afternoon." He squeezes her hand shortly to reassure her, but it's just as much to get a better hold on her and grab onto someone for his own security.

The noises of the swamp at night are alien and scary. The sounds of the cicadas are accompanied by the croaking and screaming of frogs and toads. They sound like someone screaming in pain. There is rustling in the underbrush next to the water and the soft sound of splashing water.

Carries presses closer to Neil, scared as she stares at the colourless water. She thinks she can see something gliding through the water. It looks like a big snake.

"Please Neil, let's go back to the car. I'm scared. I really don't want to go to this stupid party." She clings even harder to him.

"Don't be such a baby, Carrie. We're almost there anyway. It'd take us longer to go back to the car than to go to the party anyway." His voice has none of its usual strength, but he still drags her after him, edging closer to the water on some kind of path that disappears into the thicket in front of them.

The shadow on the water is gone, but she is still afraid of going too close to the water. She thinks about tearing lose from Neil's hold on her hand and turning back when a sudden whoop above them makes her whimper, and she pushes him forward closer to the party.

"I want to go, please," she whispers.

Neil only answers her with a noncommittal grunt, and on they trudge through the weeds and moss. The closer they get to the thicket, the louder the sound of laughter and music gets.

There is more rustling on their right, and she tears lose from Neil and turns around, trying to find out what is causing the noise. Carrie notices that the cicadas, frogs and toads have quieted down and she can clearly hear the music from the party now.

"Carrie, please, let's go." There is impatience in Neil's voice as he once more has to persuade her to continue on.

She can't help but stay rooted to the spot. She can feel panic rising inside her, and she looks at Neil pleadingly. "Let's go back, please. I really don't like it here."

He sighs, unnerved. "Go back, then. I, for my part, want to go to the party." He turns and heads on, stepping into the thicket.

Scared, she watches him disappear. She really wants to return to the car, but she is too afraid to go back through the dark all on her own. A sudden splash makes the decision for her; she follows Neil and she finds herself running for the place where he had disappeared into the thicket.

"Neil, wait up for me!" She wedges herself through the branches and vines that make it hard to follow the narrow path on the ground. There are more mosquitoes here than outside, and she swats at them jerkily, all the while trying to find Neil, whom she can't see ahead.

"Neil!"

The sound of the party gets louder, and she follows her hearing to her friends. Her heart is beating so hard she's afraid her ribcage won't be able to keep it inside. Something brushes over the nape of her neck and she squeaks with surprise. A vine hangs low behind her, swinging slowly. Carrie takes a deep breath and turns back to the front, her fists clenched as she forces herself to calm down.

"Neil, please wait up!" No response. But she can see light between the branches at the end of the path, and it makes her hurry up. She practically runs the rest of the distance and wedges out of the thicket into the clearing where a bonfire lights the party.

"Hey Carrie!" Cindy waves at her from the table with the fruit punch, dressed up as a vampire.

She waves back and scans the crowd. There are far more people than she had expected but she can't find Neil in the sea of faces. Slowly, she makes her way through her friends. The close proximity of all these people makes her calm down from the excitement of her trek with Neil.

An arm slings around her shoulder and, startled, she turns around.

"Hey there! Here have some fruit punch." Cindy hands her a plastic cup with a bright orange punch, oranges and dark grapes and lychee swimming in it. "I'm glad that Neil was able to convince you to come, too. This location is just great. Where is he, by the way?"

Carrie looks up from the content of the plastic cup. "He should be here. He was walking in front of me. I was a bit slow."

"Huh, I didn't notice him. Well, maybe he took a leek or something. Come on, help me with the food." She grabs Carrie's wrist and guides her over to the tables where trays of food are wrapped in tin foil. "We have to unwrap them and set them up so the hungry mob gets fed."

"Okay." The task makes her calm down, and she once more glances at the people dancing and partying around the fire. She has to admit that the location is really perfect for a Halloween party. She grabs the next tray and carefully peels the foil off. "Who came up with the idea to come here?"

"Hm, I guess it was Scott. He and Bobby found it while doing the research for their biology project, and since this is far away from everything else nobody can keep us from partying here, right?" Cindy brushes a strand of her blonde hair back. "Man, I should have done something about the hair, it keeps getting in the way."

"I like your costume. You look great, really." She takes one of the small sandwiches and pops it into her mouth. "These are delicious!"

"Yea, they are. Claire, Jessica, and Meg spent the last two days doing nothing else." Another tray gets unwrapped and they arrange them on the tables. "Okay, the rest is for later. Let's mix and mingle with the group. Let's see if we can find the elusive Neil."

Carrie watches Cindy join the others, and she once more scans the faces for Neil. A sudden feeling of dread starts to well up inside of her. It's not possible that Neil arrived after her, and there was no way she had passed him without noticing.

She downs the rest of the fruit punch and slowly edges around the partying people to the entrance to the clearing. She has to go back into the thicket and check to see if Neil is still somewhere outside.

Sparing another glance at her friends, she once more wedges into the tight web of branches and vines. She takes two steps forward but then stops. There is something to her left.

"Neil!"

She sees something flicker close to the water. Cautiously, she approaches, brushing the moss aside and pushing herself though the trees and Mangroves. There's the flicker again, and she thinks she can make out a human shape. Her heart speeds up again.

"Neil, stop being such a jerk!" Carrie takes another step and suddenly finds herself ankle-deep in water. "Fuck!"

She steps back again and looks up. There's something in the water right in front of her. Slowly, she reaches in and fishes it out. It's Neil's wallet. Movement on her right makes her turn, and suddenly she can see a girl with torn clothes, her skin slightly decayed and her eyes milky. The girl reaches out to her, and Carrie screams.


	2. Chapter 2

_Houma, Louisiana  
Present Day_

"So, why are we here again?" Dean sets down the diner's menu and scans the clientele. There's nothing like Louisiana, and he's not quite sure if that's a good thing or not.

"Two weeks ago, an eighteen year old guy disappeared in the swamps outside this town. He was on his way to a Halloween party with his girlfriend when they had a slight disagreement about whether or not to join their friends and he went on without her. When she finally followed him, it turns out he never showed up at the party. The police haven't found him since then. He just disappeared." Sam scratches his forehead. "But it gets better."

"Better? Man, I can't hide my excitement about all of this." Dean mumbles.

"Dean, we promised Bobby we'd look into it since he has his hands full helping a friend of his." There is, again, the slightly annoyed and lecturing tone and the exasperated look on his face. Sometimes, Sam is just too much, even for Dean.

"What? I can't help but think that this is just stupid. I mean, come on, the guy probably got eaten by an alligator or something. Things like that happen, you know. Especially to stupid idiots that throw a Halloween party out in the swamps."

Sam gives him another one of those I-am-disappointed-with-you looks, and his face disappears behind the monitor of his laptop. "Well, the police think the same you do, but there haven't been any alligators around here for decades, and there were no traces of something dragging the guy off. Besides, the girlfriend said that he was killed."

"By who?" Dean smiled disarmingly at the pretty red-head behind the counter and was repaid with a teasing smile in return. Maybe there was something interesting here in this town after all.

"Not by whom, by what."

"Huh?" This finally gets Dean's attention.

"Caroline Debonnet, the girlfriend, testified that she saw a dead girl where her boyfriend disappeared, and she said that this dead girl had killed him and tried to attack her as well but, disappeared before she could do any real harm."

"What the fuck?" This was just plain weird. What angry spirit left before finishing its task, deed, or whatever? "Something like this happen before?"

Sam reached for his glass of coke. "No, nothing about ghosts. I checked the past of the town, and nothing about people disappearing either."

"This gets stranger by the minute. So, what, this ghost shows up suddenly and kills a guy, scares the girl, and disappears, taking the body with him? Do you think it's like Lake Manitoc?" The red-head behind the counter is leaving her post and making her way over to their table. Her hips sway promisingly as she saunters over.

"What can I do for you guys?" She spares a glance at Sam before focusing on Dean. She pushes her shoulders back which presents her breasts nicely with a tag on one that says 'Trisha'.

"There are quite a lot of things that you can do for me, Trisha, but I'll just get a cheeseburger with fries for now." Dean leans back and lets his eyes wander up and down her body before giving her a pleased smile.

This merits not only a blush and giggle from Trisha, but also a snort and roll of his eyes from Sam. Man, his little brother is a real pain in the ass sometimes. Just because he is apparently determined to be abstinent does not mean Dean would do the same. The hell he will turn into some cranky blue-balled dick like Sam.

When Trisha deigns Sam with another glance, he orders a plate of gumbo and gives Dean another reprimanding look. Man, what is the guy's problem?

"There is, of course, the possibility of something like Lake Manitoc but I can't say for sure before I haven't had the chance to check the scene and before we find out if any children disappeared or were murdered in the past." Sam was back to scratching his forehead.

"Well, I'd say we drive out to this party location and get a good look at the place. After that, we can split up, you check out the town library and I'll…"

"What? You'll check out the girlfriend?" This question is followed by an amused laugh. Man his brother sucks in a totally non-pleasurable way.

"Very funny, bitch."

"Not a problem, jerk." Sam snickers, amused, but – thank god – he disappears behind his laptop again.

Most of the time, his little brother is an okay kind of guy, and there are even times when he's a great guy but at times like this, Dean just wants to deck him one. If he's not all doom and gloom, like an Evanescence song, he's all 'I'm more mature than you are and I'm going to make you behave.' Dean hates this. He's been grown up for longer than Sam has known how to tie his shoe laces, and he made it on his own for some years before they started their days as the modern day Bonnie and Clyde.

It makes him kind of wonder, what Sam would look like in a dress. Dean almost chokes on his beer as he fights back the laughter his train of thought incites. No way his freakishly tall baby brother was going to fit into a dress.

"What?"

"Nothing." Dean looks back to the counter and continues to flirt with the red-head. Trisha was definitely going to get lucky tonight. He's looking forward to relieving some tension. Hell yea, tonight is going to be great.

He watches Trisha until she saunters over to the kitchen and picks up two plates. Then he watches her return to their table. She sets Sam's plate down and bends down to Dean. The angle gives him a fantastic insight into her cleavage.

"Enjoy." Her arms squish her breasts together and make them look even better than they had before. Her breasts are not the only thing getting squished right now. Dean can feel himself getting hard as his eyes stay glued to the tanned soft skin that is so openly put on display for him. Man, he can't wait for tonight.

"Thank you Trisha." Sam's voice is like a cold shower and Dean has to fight hard to keep from growling at him.

Trisha does not have such qualms though as she turns to his little brother and glares at him. Whoa, hell hath no fury. This girl apparently doesn't like annoying baby brothers.

"You're welcome." The remark is hissed at Sam and she rights herself, strutting back to her place behind the counter.

Dean hopes that Sam hasn't offended Trisha too much. He wants to fuck her tonight, after all, and if his stupid little brother messed this up, he'll be seriously pissed off. "Man, what's your problem?"

"What's my problem?" Sam raises his eyebrow in what he apparently believes to be a sarcastic way, but it only makes him look like he's trying too hard. "Dude, she was almost dropping onto your plate."

"So?" He doesn't get what the problem is. This Trisha chick is hot, after all.

"Just forget it." Sam picks up his fork and stars digging through his gumbo. His face is a mask of annoyance, which, in turn, makes Dean angry.

"No, what the fuck is wrong with you? Just because you're determined to die from blue balls doesn't mean that I have to do the same, and if this Trisha chick digs me, I can only say that it shows she has good taste." Dean is annoyed now. "You are such a prude sometimes. Actually, not sometimes, more like always."

"That's not true. I'm not a prude, but this is a diner, and I really would like to eat without some woman presenting her rack on your plate. I can really do without that." Sam has put his fork down and is now gesturing at Dean.

"You are a guy for fuck's sake. You're not supposed to do without that." Sometimes, Dean wonders what the deal with Sam is. He knows that his baby brother had been together with Jenny for some time and that the two of them definitely had had sex, so why always this shocked and prudish behaviour when some chick was presenting her goods?

"Man, Dean, there is more to life than sex, even if that concept is kind of hard for you to grasp. So you might think about using your upstairs brain more often."

What the fuck was that supposed to mean? He uses his brain often enough. "Shut the fuck up. Sometimes you really piss me off." He angrily stuffs some fries into his mouth and picks at the lettuce of his burger.

"Right back at you." Is Sam's mumbled reply. His floppy hair slips out from behind his ear and hides his forehead and eyes in the shadow it creates. His whole posture and demeanour screams kicked puppy and Dean can't help but feel guilty.

He picks up the burger and takes a big bite. It tastes very good, but it seems to expand in his mouth and he wonders how he's supposed to swallow it. He takes a swig from his beer bottle and washes the food down. Man, this sucks. He hates fighting with Sam because he always ends up feeling guilty, no matter who started the fight.

Dean notices Trisha trying to catch his eye, but he has lost all interest in her now. Great. No sex again. If he's not careful he will become as blue-balled as Sam. That, or he would once more have to take a long shower in some sleazy motel bathroom.

Man, sometimes he hates his life.

The rest of the burger and the fries are eaten in silence, and after taking the last swig of his beer bottle, Dean waves at Trisha for the bill. Better get going and check the haunted place out, get some road into their case. There's nothing else to do now anyway.

When Trisha stomps over, Sam has shoved his half-full plate away from him and is sipping on his glass of coke. He refuses to look anywhere near Dean and his eyes are fixed at something only he can see. That's just perfect. Not only Trisha, but also Sam, is pissed off.

"There's my number on the back. If you're still interested, that is." She fixes a cold glare at Sam, who, in turn, avoids looking at either Dean or Trisha.

"Thanks." Dean places some crumpled bills on top of the receipt. "Keep the change. Bye" He gets up and strides towards the exit. It feels suspiciously like escaping. He hates running from anything. Really. And from some waitress in a Louisiana diner, none the less.

That's him, Dean Winchester, hunter extraordinaire, bane of everything supernatural, protector of his little brother and pussy-whipped by the very same brother. Man, and there isn't even any sex as compensation. Not that he would want that anyway, but still there ought to be some kind of reward instead his brother's often not so pleasant presence.

He should have taken the receipt with Trisha's number, but then Sam would have been on about it for ages. He can do without that, thank you very much.

Dean walks down the sidewalk to the Impala. It's rather warm for this time of the year. He mentioned it to Sam when they had gotten out of the car, and the reply had been something about global warming and ice melting somewhere and El Niño and other stuff that in Dean's opinion did not explain why it was so freaking warm. He doesn't really care, to be honest. It had only been a comment, not the invitation to a Sam lecture.

At the car, he unlocks the door and slips inside. He hadn't checked to see if Sam had followed him, but the door on the other side of the car opens and his brother folds his tall frame into the car. There is still tension between them, but both of them ignore it, refusing to talk about what had just happened in the diner.

The city is an interesting mixture of old and new, and if he was completely honest with himself, Dean can actually picture himself living in a place like this. If he was to settle down. But, of course, that would never happen of course.

The street leads them outside the city, and the country transforms into something right out of some kind of horror movie. Something with old run down mansions, ghosts, and Hoodoo magic. He'd definitely watch it.

They drive on in silence, Sam sometimes changing his position in the seat but never uttering a single word. Well, Dean is definitely in no hurry to change that. First of all, he can calm down himself, and second, he can avoid one of the let's-share-our-feelings talks Sam preferred sometimes. Boy, they suck, hard time. What kind of guy would willingly talk about embarrassing shit like that? It just wasn't in the genes of men to get all emotional.

There's a small road leading away from the interstate, and Dean follows it into the swamps. There's nothing but wilderness out here, and the further they get away from the interstate, the more they enter movie-land. The only thing missing is either some Hoodoo woman or a fucking alligator.

After ten more minutes of driving, they reach a small meadow. The road ends here, and Dean parks the Impala next to a huge tree. He spares a glance at Sam, but his brother stares out of the car window. Whatever.

He opens the door and gets out of the car. The air is heavy with its humidity, and Dean thinks about maybe leaving his leather jacket in the car. He thinks about it, but of course he doesn't do it. There's no way he's leaving his jacket in the car. He didn't even take it off in the Nevada desert.

Finally, Sam gets out of the car as well. He looks over the roof at Dean, and there's something like guilt in his eyes. Dean doesn't want to hear it. He can imagine that it will be something along the lines of _'I'm sorry I screwed tonight's fuck up for you.'_ Well, not exactly with these words, but the meaning would be the same.

Dean shakes his head to signal Sam that he's not willing to discuss this topic and goes to the back of the car. He unlocks the trunk, secures the hood of the lower compartment, and looks through their stuff. He stuffs a gun into the back of his jeans and pockets an EMF meter. A hand reaches into the trunk and Sam grabs another gun and a knife.

The last choice makes Dean look up, but Sam only shrugs.

He closes and locks the trunk, and off they go into the wilderness before them. There is a small path they are following. It's apparently very old, almost hidden from the eye, but the moss, weeds, and grass have been trampled down not too long ago. In the last two weeks, to be precise.

The mosquitoes are really getting on his nerves and it's the same with the fucking frogs and toads. For the umpteenth time, he stubs his toes on some fucking root, and the humidity makes him sweat profusely. Fucking melting ice and El Niño.

"There's a thicket ahead." Sam's comment makes him look up from the ground and the stupid roots to the trees ahead.

"This job is getting better and better." He rolls his shoulders and trudges ahead. He can see that the path into the thicket has been cleared. Branches have been cut to make more space, the earth here was trampled down even more, and there was still some police tape tied to some branches.

The vines and Spanish Moss that are woven into the branches make it even harder to see through the thicket. It's easy, though, to find the place of the abduction, since there's nothing else they can do but follow the path to their destination.

The EMF meter starts to whistle and Dean gets it out of his pocket. The reading is rather high and he stops in his tracks. "That must be one hell of a spirit."

"Or more than one spirit."

"Dude, don't even think about it." Leave it to Sam to make things worse. "Let's just say it's one kick-ass spirit, okay?"

"Dean, it's the spirit of a little girl. From the EMF readings we get here, it has to be something in the league of H.H. Holmes." Thank you Mr. Positive! Would it kill his brother to, just once, say something that was not all the-end-is-near?

"Yea, maybe it was a really crazy girl. It doesn't necessarily mean there's more than one spirit." Dean holds the EMF meter in front of him as he marches on towards the scene of abduction.

Sam is right behind him, watching the EMF readings over Dean's shoulder.

"No, it doesn't have to mean that there's more than one spirit, but the chances are pretty good that it's not only one angry spirit we are dealing with."

"Great!" He's hot, he's sweating, the mosquitoes are bothering him, and his brother is almost plastered to his back. "Dude, would you mind not sticking onto me like that."

"Sorry." The voice is annoying, and Dean wants nothing more than turn around and be in Sam's face about it, but he notices the sudden turn the cleared path takes from the older path and he follows it toward the water without giving Sam any attitude of his own.

They end up in midst of the trees and vines at the edge of the water. There's nothing but plants, water, earth, and markings and tapes put up by the police.

Dean crouches down and looks at the surface of the swamp. It's still; only an occasional breeze sends the tiniest of ripples over the dark green-brown water. He scans the area with the EMF and looks for hints of what happened that night two weeks ago. There's nothing out of the ordinary to see.

A splash gets his attention, and he watches Sam trod though the water off to the right.

"Man, I won't let you into the Impala with muddy, wet clothes and shoes." He gets no reaction, so he turns away from his brother.

He steps away from the cleared area and wedges into the thicket following the edge of the water in the direction of the party clearing. There are a couple of rocks overgrown with weeds and reeds, and he has to check carefully where he sets his next step. The reeds get fewer, and he arrives at a small clearing free of any plants and roots.

The EMF meter whistles again, and Dean starts exploring the place. There's nothing out of the ordinary; only earth, leaves, and mud. Close to some roots on the other end of the bay, he notices footprints. Bare-footed footprints, and, hidden in the thicket, he can see something tangled in the roots. Carefully, he reaches in and grabs onto the thing, whatever it is.

It's a piece of snake skin.

He looks around once more and then makes his way back through the thicket to the place where he left Sam. He finds his brother waiting. Sam raises his eyebrows as he sees Dean with the snake skin.

"I found a small clearing down there. The EMF readings are very high there. And I found this too." He holds the snake skin out to Sam who takes it, rubbing it between his fingers.

"Hm, looks normal to me."

"Yeah, to me, too. But I thought I'd take it with me anyway. Did you find anything?" Dean pockets the EMF meter again and knocks his boots against a tree trunk to shake the mud off.

"Yeah, I did." Dean looks up and sees Sam holding out a silver necklace. "It was hidden under a root over there in the water. But there was nothing else I could find."

Dean takes the piece of jewellery from Sam and pockets it. "I'll show it to the girlfriend, maybe she recognizes it."

They both take a last look around and then make their way back to the car.

"Dean, do you think Bobby sent us here to keep us away?" Sam has apparently been thinking about this for quite some time. His voice is pensive and Dean can feel the hair on his neck standing up.

"Why would you think that?" He turns around and takes a good look at his little brother. He knows that there are times when Sam has problems sleeping, but he had thought lately that everything had been fine in this particular department. He's surprised when he notices dark rings under tired eyes. "What reason would Bobby have to send us away?"

"He said that he's helping some friends and he doesn't want us around. What do you think I'm thinking?" Sam looks at him as if he is supposed to know what's going on in other peoples' heads. When it becomes clear that Dean does not know what he means with this cryptic comment, he exhales heavily before explaining. "I think that Steve Wandell's friends are with him, trying to get a lead on who killed him. I think that's the reason why he wanted us to take this job."

Dean doesn't like this explanation at all. "Maybe you're just reading too much into all of this."

"Come on, Dean. Bobby has never asked us to work a case for him. Why now? He was so insistent on us taking this case it was like he was trying to get us as far away as he could."

He can feel his jaw clenching, and he gets the urge to punch something. He hates this. Ever since their father had leaned closer to him, whispering those damned instructions into his ear; things had turned from bad to worse. Why couldn't they ever get a fucking break?

"Maybe, maybe not. There's no way to find out, and I suggest we focus on Mister Houdini here." He turns and strolls away, clearly signalling that this conversation is over, officially.

After a second of hesitation, he hears the footsteps of his little brother following him, and in no time he has caught up to Dean. Those freaking long legs of his.

They remain silent for the rest of the trek back, and at the car, he makes Sam take off the shoes and jeans. "No way are you ditying my car with those muddy clothes of yours."

While Sam puts some clean, dry clothes on, Dean takes the silver necklace out and studies it. It's slightly muddy, but the silver underneath is very light and shines in the sunlight. There's nothing fancy about it; most likely, it's jewellery for a man.

He shoots Sam an impatient look and gets into the car. Dean wants to get back to Houma and get done with the questioning the girlfriend. He's tired from the talk about Wandell and the implications of Bobby maybe meeting with the hunter's friends. There's a pillow with his name on it, and it's getting impatient waiting.

The Impala rocks when Sam closes the trunk, and he once more folds himself into the font seat. He rubs at his eyes and sinks lower into the seat. Dean thinks that they both need a good night's sleep. They deserve it.

As they drive back into town, Sam falls asleep. He snuffles pitifully for some time before he goes quiet. Dean glances at his brother's relaxed face and wonders when they'd get some time to recharge their batteries. They've both been running on their last reserves for quite some time now.

Dean drives to the town library and parks in front of the steps that lead into the big building. He really doesn't want to wake Sam up, but if they want to get some sleep later on, they have to get the work done now. He reaches over and lightly shakes his brother. Sam's reaction to this is instantaneous. Sam shoots up and blinks tiredly, his head turning to find the cause of his interrupted sleep.

"We're here, Sleeping Beauty." He smiles encouragingly at Sam and nods at the building next to them. "Have fun, but don't forget to come home before midnight, or else the spell will stop and everyone will see what you really look like."

"Hardy har-har." Sam rolls his eyes and climbs out of the car.

As he reaches in the back for his leather bag, Dean can't help but add: "And don't drop any shoes."

This awards him with another eyeroll and the door being slammed in his face. At least his brother was in his normal mood again; pissed off at Dean.

He pulls out into traffic and heads into the direction of the girlfriend's house; well, rather the house of her parents, since she still lives at home. The houses change from multi-story to family houses. He parks the Impala in front of the lawn and gets out. The house is old but well-looked after. There's money to keep everything working properly.

Dean walks up to the front porch and climbs up to the front door. He knocks and waits for somebody to answer. There's no car in the driveway, but he still hopes that somebody has stayed at home.

"How can I help you?" The girl is around seventeen, and her brown eyes are red-rimmed. She shuffles uncomfortably from one foot to the other, all the while studying Dean tiredly.

He smiles charmingly at her – it can never hurt to use some mojo on a woman – and holds his hand out to her. "The name's Jack Casady. I'm a cousin of Neil's. I wanted to ask you about what happened that night, when he disappeared."

"I know Neil's cousin. His name is Morgan and you're not him." She takes a step back and starts to close the door.

_Fuck!_

"Wait! Please, Carrie, I really need to talk to you." He sees her blanch at the mention of her name. Great, now she'll think he's some kind of crazy stalker.

"Who the hell are you?"

At least she hasn't closed the door completely or called the cops. That's a good sign, right? Dean decides that the compassionate approach is the only way to proceed now. He clears his throat and locks his eyes with hers. It's important that Carrie understands that he's not jerking her around.

"I know what you told the police about what happened that night, and I'm convinced that what you said is true. I'm trying to find Neil's murderer." Her hands cling to the door, but after a short hesitation, she opens it fully and steps to the side to let him in.

She closes the door behind them and leads him to a large living room. As Dean sits down on the huge couch, she curls up in a large armchair. Her whole demeanour has changed from suspicious to hopeful, and she watches him take a look at the room.

"Why would you believe me? Nobody else does. They all think that I'm crazy or trying to get attention." Her voice loses strength while talking.

"To be completely honest with you, I lost my girlfriend the same way. Everybody said that I was insane, delusional, high on drugs, some even said I killed her myself. When I read about your statement I wanted to help. Nobody helped me, and that can be really tough." He hopes that this story is enough to get her talking. He would have preferred the cousin to a mourning boyfriend, but it was better than the truth.

"I'm sorry about your girlfriend." He just nods at that and waits for her to talk.

"Neil wanted me to come with him to the Halloween party. His friends had been preparing everything for weeks. I didn't really want to, but I didn't want to sit at home or celebrate with my parents, either, and so I agreed to go with him. We drove down to the swamp and parked the car at some small meadow. There were a couple of cars parked there already.

"We arrived late because Neil had promised to come with me to Marianne's party beforehand. She's my best friend, and I promised to drop by. When we left the car, we followed some kind of path to the location of the party. It was so scary that I almost turned around. Neil got angry because I was bothering him to go with me back to the car, and then he went on without me." Carrie's eyes well up and she rubs at them with the back of her hand.

"I got even more scared and tried to follow him. I mean, it was so dark, I couldn't see him, but I had seen the direction he'd walked in and there was the sound of the music. When I found the party, Neil wasn't there. I looked around but I couldn't find him. I was really worried because I hadn't seen him on the way to the party. I…" She stops and once more rubs at her eyes. Dean looks around for some tissues but he can't find any. Well, there's nothing he can do about that now.

"I went back to the path I came from, to see if he was somewhere outside. That's when I noticed something in the thicket. I thought I saw Neil and tried to reach him, but I only found his wallet. Suddenly I saw…" Carrie looks up and at him. "That's when I saw her."

"The dead girl?"

She only nods at that.

"Um, how do you know she was dead?"

"Her skin had some kind of greyish tone and looked like she was decaying. Like in 'The Shining', you know. But worst of all were her eyes."

"Her eyes?" Dean tries to coax more information out her. He needs to get as much as he can. He and Sam need to know what to look for if they want to find out whose ghost killed Neil and attacked Carrie.

"They were all milky. It was horrible. She was standing there, looking at me with those blind eyes. I felt so scared. And then she reached for me. I wanted to run, but I couldn't, so I just screamed. I screamed as loud as I could." Carrie uncurls from the armchair and walks to the small cabinet. There she opens a drawer and gets a packet of tissues.

"What did she do then, did she hurt you?" She stayed with her back turned to him while she blotted her eyes. Dean wished it was Sam sitting here. He would hug her and get all weepy, crying with her over lost love and eternal heartbreak or something similarly schmoopy.

"She disappeared, but before that she said something to me." Carrie returns to the armchair and curls up again.

"What did she say?"

"Too late." There is a pregnant silence after this, and Dean just looks at her without seeing. Too late for what? To save her boyfriend? But why stay to say this and then simply disappear?

"Did she look familiar? Did you recognize her?" Dean already knows that this is not the case; otherwise, it would have been printed in the newspapers, but it can't hurt to ask anyway.

"No. I didn't recognize her. She was dressed really old-fashioned. Like in the days when there were still slaves and such. Her clothes were torn and dirty." She hugs herself but keeps on talking. "She was a black girl of about twelve or thirteen, I'd say, and if the state of her clothes were anything to go by, I would assume that she had been attacked. I think she was a child slave that was killed."

Dean raises his eyebrows and sits back. Great. If this is true, it will be almost impossible to find the girl's grave. Maybe the bones are somewhere in the swamp, maybe they had been buried properly, but they could be just buried somewhere without a marker as well.

He rubs his forehead and concentrates once more on getting more information. "Do you know by any chance if there is some story about a slave girl being murdered in the swamp?"

"No, I don't." Now why doesn't this answer surprise him?

"Okay, thanks for your help. I'll try to get some information about the girl." He gets up from the couch and holds his hand out to say goodbye.

"Thank you for listening and not saying that I'm crazy." Her grip is weak and her hand is suspiciously wet, probably from her tears. "If you find anything about the girl or Neil, please tell me."

"Sure. I'll do that." Dean walks towards the entrance when he remembers the silver necklace Sam found. He turns back to Carrie, who is openly crying now. "Do you by any chance recognise this?"

He holds the jewellery out for her to see.

"No, I'm sorry." Strange, he had been sure she would identify it as her boyfriend's.

"No problem, thanks again." He leaves her and the house behind and walks back to his car.

In his thoughts, he's starting to sort out the information he gathered and make sense of some things. His drive to the motel is spent thinking about the case and what they know so far. It's not much, and what he knows is not reassuring. He hopes that Sam was able to find out more about their mystery girl.

What bothers him is the fact that the spirit had hadn't attacked Carrie, and for some reason the necklace bothers him as well. There's something about the whole affair that just doesn't seem right, something he's sure they're missing, but he can't figure out what it is.

They have a room at the Sugar Bowl Motel. Dean parks the car in front of their room and leans over his seat to get his duffle bag and Sam's backpack from the back seat. He gets out, locks the car, and opens the door.

He takes the generic motel furniture in and picks the bed closer to the bathroom. First one gets to choose the bed. Sam's backpack is left on the table, his duffle bag gets dropped onto the bed, and Dean shrugs out of his jacket. He feels the need for a nice shower and then a nap before dinner. He toes his boots off and unbuttons his jeans. His clothes get dropped right then and there without any attempt of putting them away. Let Sam bitch about his sloppy habits. There's no way Dean will disappoint him there.

Only in his boxers, he walks into the bathroom. He grabs a large towel and puts it on the toilet lid next to the shower. When he draws the shower curtain back, he sees a large black spider sitting in the middle of the porcelain shower tub.

"What the hell?" He grabs the shower head and turns the water on, full force. The stream rushes at the spider, but it just crawls to the side. Holding the shower head directly above the ugly beast, he sweeps it down the drain. Dean 1: Spider 0.

He turns the water off and steps out of his boxers. When he wants to step into the shower, he notices the spider crawling out of the drain into the shower tub. Dean 1: Spider: 1.

He grabs the towel and slings it around his hips. Giving the black thing in his shower the Evil Eye, he looks around the bathroom for something to catch the spider with. There are two plastic cups that are wrapped in foil, but he doesn't want to use those. In the bedroom, he finds two glasses on top of the minibar and he grabs one of those together with the laminated page of instructions what to do in the case of fire.

By the time he's returned with his equipment, the spider has, of course, disappeared. Dean searches for it but can't find it anywhere. After a last glance around the shower, he puts the towel back on the toilet lid and steps into the porcelain tub, closing the shower curtain behind him.

When the warm water sloshes down his body, he closes his eyes and just washes today's sweat and grime away. He pushes all thoughts about the case away and tries to relax under the feeling of water on his skin.

He thinks of Trisha and her golden boobs and decides to relax some more. He pictures her naked with her breasts squished together by her arms. As he imagines looking down at the red head as she kneels in front of him to give him a blow job, Dean spreads his legs to get a better stance and braces one hand against the tiled wall of the shower.

He reaches down to his growing erection and thinks some more about Trisha and her soft skin and her full lips and how nicely they would look wrapped around his dick. He starts pumping, but he soon has to stop for some shower lotion as lube.

Back to business, he changes the scene in his head and pictures the waitress in his bed. He's lying on his back, while she's mounted on top of him, riding him. His hand on his erection speeds up, and he flicks his thumb over the sensitive head, lightly scratching over it. A shudder runs over his whole body, and he exhales softly.

What he would give for a real Trisha here in the shower. His head drops lower as he starts to pant in time with the strokes on his dick. Dream Trisha has thrown her head back, her throat a long curve, her breasts bobbing in time with her movement on top of him. He can feel the warm feeling of his orgasm starting to pool and speeds his movement up, grabbing hold of Dream Trisha's hips and thrusting up into her.

She moans loudly and starts to massage her breasts and play with her nipples. Dean works his dick now with a furious pace as he and his dream alter-ego near their completion. The tension in his balls becomes too much, and after a last flick over the head of his dick, he groans his release while his dream self empties himself into the willing body of Dream Trisha.

He turns the water off and stays like this for a couple of seconds, catching his breath before he opens his eyes. There, right under him, sits the spider.

"Fuck!"

He climbs out and grabs the glass. Putting it on top of the spider, he decides that it has to wait until he's dried himself and is wearing some clothes. He quickly rubs himself down and towels his hair dry. The air is so humid and warm even inside the bedroom that he starts sweating again almost at once.

Dean unzips the dufflebag and pulls out the first clean pair of jeans he can find. He doesn't really care what he's wearing as long as he gets some clothes on. He has to dig past his long-sleeved shirts before he finds a wrinkled T-shirt at the bottom of the bag. It's

a stupid shirt Sam had bought for him at some souvenir shop in Kentucky. Looking up into the mirror, he sees 'Getting lucky in Kentucky' in gaudy colours emblazoned on his chest.

The words make him grin. Oh yea, he had definitely been lucky in Kentucky. More than once, actually. The blonde nurse had been very nice indeed, as the Korean waitress had also been. Never forget the twins. Dean feels his grin widen into a content smile, and he pads bare-footed back to the bathroom.

The black spider is sitting right under the glass where he left it. He could swear the thing is watching his every move. It gives him the creeps. He's not afraid of spiders, but he's seen more than enough bugs to last him for a while.

He picks up the laminated fire instructions and carefully shoves them under the glass and the spider. It starts crawling around and trying to climb the glass walls surrounding it, but it just slides back to the middle of the improvised prison.

To open the window, he has to put his prisoner aside. There are bushes outside and he releases the animal into the relative wilderness of the motel parking lot. It's bound to find more food out there anyway, right? A slight breeze stirs the air of the room, and he decides to leave the window open.

After a last glance at the open window, he heads to his bed, pushing his duffle bag to the floor and laying down on the clean sheets. They smell of a flowery fabric softener, and he buries his face in the smallish pillow. When he reaches underneath, he notices the lack of any weapon, so he blindly reaches down to the upturned bag, digging through the contents until he feels the heft of his knife and he slips it under his pillow.

Content, Dean exhales deeply and lets his mind go blank. For some time, he just lies there, dozing, and then he falls asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

The next thing he's aware of is that there is something under his pillow. It's not the knife. The thing feels warm but also like rubber, or something like that at least. Curious, he pinches the thing and runs his hand down it to get an idea about the shape of it. Surprisingly, it's connected to his other hand, and Dean realizes that he's feeling up his own arm that is, apparently, very much asleep.

Dean lets go of his discovery and tries to pull his arm out from under the pillow, but it just doesn't want to co-operate. He cracks his eyes open and blinks a couple of times before he looks down at the pillow. There's nothing he can do about his numb limb but use his normal hand to pull it out.

Cradling his arm closer, he rubs it to get the circulation going again. The prickling starts out soft but quickly gets more painful.

A soft snuffle gets his attention, and he looks over to the other bed to find Sam tangled up in the sheets, his feet dangling over the end of the bed. The picture makes him smirk. There is one thing that's no fun about being as freakishly tall as his baby brother, and that's sleeping in standard-sized beds.

The prickles in his arm and hand die down, and he starts clenching and unclenching his fist to test it out. Everything's fine again, and the last remnants of the numbness disappear with the fading prickling feeling. He lets go of the regained limb and stretches his arms over his head, making his spine pop.

What wouldn't he do for a nice massage now. Trisha or some other nice girl could rub him down and make sure that he's all nice and relaxed. Right about now, that would be all kinds of awesome. A look over at Sam reminds him of why he isn't getting that massage, and he lies back down again.

Why is it that his little brother is that determined to have no fun at all? Seriously, it's not normal or healthy for a young guy to live such a pleasureless life. Dean can understand that the time after Jessica's death was hard, and he knows that Sam still feels responsible for what happened to their mother and to his girlfriend. But after Sara, Dean had hoped that Sam would start to live a little, stop being such a spoilsport where women and sex were involved.

But then the yellow-eyed freak had reared its freakin' head, and their father had paid for Dean's life with his own, leaving the two of them to deal with the aftermath. It had been hard, more so for Dean than for Sam because he had been torn between his loyalty to his father and his loyalty to his brother. Their dad's last order had been driving him almost insane, and finding out how he had escaped his death hadn't really helped.

If John Winchester's cryptic message had had Dean in a twist, it had been nothing compared to Sam's reaction to the revelation of his demonic connection. His offer of taking a break had been swept aside, and, suddenly, Dean found himself without a brother.

So Sam had found that Ava girl when researching his fellow psychics, but that had ended badly. Once more, a woman had suffered, a woman connected to Sam, and so Dean had helplessly had to watch his little brother once more disappear behind the ascetic guy he had picked up at Stanford more than a year ago.

Dean sighs and rubs his eyes. He just doesn't know what to do anymore Meg had been right when she had taunted him. He knows that he can't do anything to save Sam, but that's not going to make him stop trying. He'll try until he's dead, and then he'll come back as a ghost and continue his attempts to protect his little brother.

Another snuffle and then a soft "Dean?" announces that Sam is awake.

"Ready to compare stories or, do you need some more beauty sleep?"

"Very funny." The response is a little heavy with sleep. "I'm more beautiful than you without even taking a nap."

"You're dreaming." Dean gets up and walks over to the table. "More beautiful, my ass."

There's a bag with groceries in it, and he starts digging through it for something he wants to eat.

"Dude, you only bought this wholesome healthy crap food you like. What am I supposed to eat?" He digs past a box of full-grain cornflakes. "Don't tell me that besides not having sex, you stopped eating normal food as well."

"Fuck off!" The reply is muffled by a pillow.

Another box of something entirely too healthy for Dean's taste, and he finds a bag of M&amp;M's and Skittles. Hunt successful!

He makes a quick choice and picks the M&amp;M's. Tearing the bag open, he takes a handful of chocolate covered peanuts out and stuffs them into his mouth. Delicious. Munching on the sweets, he slowly trots to Sam's bed and plops down onto it.

"So, anything you were able to dig up about this fine and upstanding community here?" Another handful of chocolate peanuts is popped into his mouth. "Any dark secrets?"

"Lots of history, but nothing about a ghost and nothing about anybody disappearing here in the swamps." The voice is muffled by the pillow Sam's face is pressed into. "There's something about a house close to Houma and something about a shack in the bayou close to where our ghost abducted the guy. But neither are connected to any ghost sightings or spirit hauntings. I got the impression that it was more something along the lines of Hoodoo."

"Great. So we have no ghosts, but two cases of Hoodoo." Dean wonders if they should just torch the whole swamp and make a run for it.

"What did the girlfriend say?" Two puffy eyes looked up at him. "Anything that might be of use?"

"The ghost was a young black slave girl that seems to have been attacked and killed. Carrie, the girlfriend, said that it told her that she was too late."

"That makes no sense." Sam sits up against the head post and snags the bag of M&amp;M's out of Dean's hand. His hand disappears inside, rustling the bag. "Why would it talk to her but not attack her? And what does 'too late' mean?"

"I don't know. I do know, though, that we have to go back at night and check the place out for a second time." Dean tries to retrieve the stolen bag, but Sam hogs it, stuffing his face with more chocolate covered peanuts. "What about the Hoodoo? Any chance that something's connected to the ghost or the disappearance of our guy?"

"Maybe, I don't know though. The house that was mentioned is somewhere outside Houma but in the other direction than the Halloween party. There was some trouble two years back when a nurse reported an accident. The old woman living there suffered from a stroke and broke both of her legs."

Sam doesn't pay attention for a second, and Dean steals the M&amp;M's back. "She broke both her legs and had a stroke? How did that happen? With a nurse around, nonetheless. Shouldn't she pay attention, take care of the old folks she's living with?"

"Yeah, well, apparently she didn't pay too much attention. The strange thing is that about six months before the incident, the husband of the old lady had a stroke as well, and guess who benefits from the whole incident? The lawyer and the couple's nurse. They're living in the house now."

"What the fuck? Where's the old couple?"

Sam scratches his chest and adjusts the pillow behind his back. "They were shipped off to some nursing home and died not too long afterwards. Shortly after a visit from the nice nurse and the lawyer. I dug a little deeper and found out that a former friend of the nurse claimed Hoodoo was involved, and she believed her friend was possessed."

"A demon?" There's definitely more going on in this town than they had expected.

"Maybe. I don't know. Fact is that they found they found loads of brick dust in the shed of the house." At this, Dean raises his brows for more information. "Brick dust is supposed to protect you from anyone who wants to do you any evil. They can't step over it or something. Like the goofer dust that we had against the hellhounds or salt with demons, the brick dust works with humans."

"Hm, what about the shack in the bayou you mentioned?"

"Well, there's some house or shack or something out in the bayou. The guy who lives in it is some kind of Hoodoo doctor. I didn't find that in the papers, but the librarian told me about it when I asked about the house outside town."

Dean smirks teasingly. "And did she look good, the helpful librarian?"

"_He_ looked okay." Sam's voice sinks to an annoyed growl. "Dean, just because you try to pick up everything that has something looking remotely like boobs, does not mean that I have to think with my dick as well."

At this, he has to laugh. "Sam, you have guy boobs, and I don't try to pick you up."

"Stop being such an asshole, you know what I mean." His little brother shoves him off the bed and gets up himself. He picks up his discarded t-shirt but drops it after a short sniff. "I hate this weather."

The bag of sweets is almost empty, and his stomach still needs nourishment. He pours the last couple of M&amp;M's out and pops them into his mouth. Getting up from the bed, he returns to the groceries Sam bought. Nothing but the bag of Skittles that might tempt him, but after all the chocolate, he can't eat Skittles as well. Giving up on the bought goods, he hopes to tempt his brother into going back to the diner with him.

"What do you say about some dinner?"

The question doesn't even make Sam look up from searching for a shirt in his backpack. "Sure. We could even go back to that diner from before. You could ask Trisha for some information on the swamp and the Hoodoo." The last is dripping with sarcasm.

"Dude, don't give me attitude." Dean drops the empty bag on the table and heads for his clothes. He needs a different shirt if they're going out for food. "And just so you know, I will ask her about the swamp and the Hoodoo."

A snort. "Maybe she can write it down on the back of the receipt."

Sometimes, his little brother can be a real pain in the ass.

He decides to let this one go and picks up a short sleeved shirt that he puts on. Shoes and his jacket, and he's ready to go. Unfortunately, his brother is not this fast. He checks out different shirts until he finally chooses one and then rearranges his hair that, because of the humidity and its natural tendency to do whatever it wants to, falls back messily over his eyes again.

A snicker escapes him, which earns him a hard look. "You're such a girl, Sammy."

"It's Sam, and I am not a girl."

"Uh huh." Dean grins at his brother and walks to the door. He can hear the muttered curses behind him, and it makes him grin even harder. Sometimes, his brother is the most amusing thing there is.

The Impala is awfully hot inside, Dean rolls his window down to get some of the heat and humidity out. The parking lot of the Motel is even emptier than when he had arrived; only an old dodge is parked in front of the reception. He pulls out of the parking lot and joins the traffic.

The drive back to the diner is filled with silence as Sam watches the people outside with interest, and Dean thinks about what they know so far about the case. It's not much, and it's confusing as hell. Hoodoo, ghosts, abductions…can it get any better? The last time they had had a Hoodoo-haunt gig had been at that Inn. They hadn't even known until almost the end that it was a haunt. So maybe they were looking for a ghost, but in truth it was some kind of Hoodoo spell?

He parks in front of the diner. There are a few cars parked there already, but the evening crowd hasn't arrived yet. They get out of the car and head into the air-conditioned establishment. The table in the back they had been sitting at is empty, and they sit down at the exact same place they had occupied only hours before.

The red-headed Trisha isn't behind the counter. There's a guy with dirty blonde hair and a golden tan. Dean picks up the menu. No flirting and no chance to check out how his chances were. Well, there's always the possibility to come back tomorrow.

There's a soft shuffle of clothes, and Dean looks up into bright blue eyes. Blondie from the bar is waiting for their order, and his horrendous colourful shirt is a dead give-away that he bats for the other team. The smile on the guy's face is genuine enough, though, and Dean orders his cheeseburger and beer before sitting back and watching the patrons of the diner.

The waiter disappears, and the silence of the car continues at the table. It's not an uncomfortable silence, so he doesn't do anything to change it. He tries again to figure out how the pieces of information they gathered fit together, and he has to admit that there's no real connection between any of it so far. The only point of connection there might be is the Hoodoo doctor in the bayou and the ghost in the swamp. They'll have to pay the man a visit.

The beer arrives and he takes a swig, wetting his dried-out throat. He looks over at his little brother, who's watching the people at the bar. Dean looks over as well, just in time to see the blond guy flash a smile at Sam. This makes him stop his bottle halfway to his lips, and he glances over at his brother. Knowing now what to look out for, Dean notices that Sam doesn't watch the people at the bar; he watches the waiter.

This makes him wonder what's going on. His little brother does not flirt with men. Does he? He tries hard to remember a time where Sam had put the moves on another guy, but he can't come up with one. But then again, there had been more than enough times where Sam had left a bar earlier than him and vice versa.

Surprised about this revelation, Dean sits back and watches his baby brother flirting with the blonde guy. It's not very obvious, and nobody who doesn't know Sam the way he does, would recognise the signs, but they are there. They way his eyes flicker from the waiter to his beer bottle and back, and the small crinkle of a smile at the corner of his eyes.

Is this a tongue? He almost chokes on his beer. His baby brother did not lick his lips just now, almost going down on his beer bottle afterwards, did he? Dean clears his throat, which gets Sam's attention at once.

What to say now? 'Dude, stop flirting with the waiter'? That would reveal that he had been watching. Better settle for something safer.

"So, what do you think about the case so far?" Good save.

"I think there are too many things with no real connection. We should talk to Neil's friends that were at the party. This one girl, Cindy, was with Carrie the whole time with the police. She was also the first one to come to help her. I think we should ask her some questions about what she saw."

"Sounds like a good idea. Maybe we should find this Hoodoo doctor and ask him some questions." From the corner of his eye, Dean can see the waiter head their way carrying two plates with their food.

"_If_ this Hoodoo doctor really exists. It's not something that we have proof of so far."

The plate in front of Dean smells delicious, but he ignores it in favour for watching Blondie and his brother interact.

"Today's special." The voice of the waiter is soft and almost musical. He bestows Sam with another smile and his little brother smiles back at him.

"Thanks."

"Anything else I can help you with?"

And suddenly Dean has an idea. "Um, actually, yes. Could we ask you some questions?" He sees Sam look at him, surprised, but he refuses to react to it. Instead he focuses on the waiter.

"Sure." He sits down on an empty chair and smiles at him. It's a smile, but it's not at all like the ones he flashed at Sam. Dean feels awkward, forcing his brother into action once more, but he's determined to get him laid, no matter whether it's with a girl or a guy.

"We'd like to know what you know or have heard about the guy who disappeared on Halloween."

"Neil Beauregard?" There's a short pause before Blondie continues. "There's not a lot I know about that incident. I, um, don't have any connections to their group, but I can tell you the talk of the town about it."

Sam starts eating but watches their source of gossip closely.

"Neil and his girlfriend were headed to an illegal Halloween party in the swamps close to here. On their way to the party, they got separated and he never arrived. In the paper, they said that his girlfriend was drunk or something like that and raved about some ghost that tried to attack her. They also said that that Neil was probably drunk as well and just fell into the swamp. Some say he was attacked by a huge alligator." The information isn't really helpful.

"What do you think about the whole incident?" And with this, Sam has the whole attention of the waiter.

"I think that something happened out there. Maybe somebody attacked them, maybe not. But I know Neil from college. He's an okay guy, and his girlfriend is nice as well. I don't believe in ghosts and there has never been anything about the swamp being haunted, but I don't believe that it was an alligator, and as far as I know, he hadn't been at the party when that happened, so I don't believe he or his girlfriend were drunk." Blondie checks to see if anybody needs him, but the second waiter is taking orders and taking care of business.

"What about the Hoodoo doctor in the bayou?" Dean thinks they might as well check this one out. "Do you know anything about that?"

"Who are you guys? Some sensationalist reporters?" He takes a closer look at Dean and Sam.

"Sort of. We're from Gambit Weekly, and we're doing some research on the disappearance of Neil Beauregard." Dean tries to smile as nicely as possible, but it's Sam's hand on the blond guy's arm that reassures him.

"We want to find out what happened, and we were told about the Hoodoo doctor, so we thought we'd ask about any connection to the Beauregard case." His little brother lets go of the arm, but he leans closer to the waiter.

"Well, if you're looking for Hoodoo, you don't have to go very far. There's a shop three streets down. From the outside, it looks like a Laundromat, but you have to go to the back. Everything you need for Hoodoo rituals you can get there, as well as some advice on which ritual to pick." Dean takes a look at the guy's chest and reads 'Paul' on the nametag. "About the shack in the bayou. An old man that practiced Hoodoo used to live there, and he was also some kind of Hoodoo doctor, but he isn't living there anymore. As far as I know, he got ill and some family members took him with them. It's some kind of a dare for kids to go out to the shack and stay a night there."

"One last question, do you know if there is (contract to "there's") a story about a girl being murdered in the swamps?" Dean sees the confusion in Paul's eyes and knows the answer before it's given.

"No, I don't now anything about that. Why?"

This time, it's Sam who answers. "Because Neil's girlfriend said that she saw the ghost of a slave girl where Neil disappeared."

"A slave girl, huh? Go to the shop I told you about. If you want to know anything about ghosts and the likes in this town, they'll know about it there." With this, blonde Paul gets up and says his goodbye; the waiter at the bar is calling him over.

Dean thinks about what they have been told. So the Hoodoo guy isn't here anymore, but now they at least know where to ask for anything supernatural in this town and the surrounding swamps. He hopes that they will be more successful there.

"Do you think that they'll know anything about the dead girl?" Sam watches him now and Dean sits back.

"Honestly, I'm not sure but I hope that they'll at least be able to point us in the right direction. If this is the ghost of a slave girl, then the chances of there being nothing in the town records about her disappearance are very high. But if this ghost is real, then somebody has to know something about it, right?"

"Yeah, right." His little brother glances over to the bar again, but Paul is busy taking an order from a group giggling girls. "I'm sure this ghost is real, but the problem might not be identifying it, but finding the grave of the girl."

"Yeah, I know." And that's that. They both resume eating and nursing their beers in silence once more.

They finish their meal soon after and decide to visit the local Hoodoo headquarters. It's early in the evening , and they might get some more info still. Dean turns to call Paul the waiter over when he finds himself face to chest with the blonde guy. Paul smiles at Sam brightly, and suddenly Dean feels uncomfortable. It's not that his little brother is making the moves on a guy right in front of him, but he feels like he's in the way, like he's interrupting.

"Um, why don't you stay and get that pie you wanted, and I'll take a look at that shop. We can meet up back at the motel, or can I pick you up once I'm finished." He keeps a close watch on Blondie from the corner of his eye.

"Don't you need my help?" His little brother is tearing his gaze from Paul and looks at him questioningly. As if Dean would keep him from getting laid. Maybe he would relax some after having had sex. They would both – no, all three of them – profit from it.

"No, I'm sure I can take care of it myself. See you later." He gets up and nods at the waiter that seems only too happy to have his brother all for himself. "See you around, Paul."

This merits him a kind smile and nod in return. But the next second he's thin air again. Whatever. Dean leaves without settling the bill; his little brother can take care of that, what with screwing Dean's happy night of fucking with Trisha earlier on and him being a good older brother and giving Sam the time and space to get some from Paul.

He leaves the diner and starts down the boardwalk in the direction Paul had told him to go. The evening is cooler than the day, but it's still freaking hot, and the leather jacket doesn't really help with the weather.

Dean tries hard not to think about the new side of his brother he just discovered but his thoughts keep returning to the topic of Sam being interested in guys. One would expect that the sons of an ex-army man would be completely against anything that might be homosexual, but the truth is that Dean has never had a problem with gay men or women. But then again, he's never thought about this particular topic too much. None of his acquaintances are of this persuasion, and since he's never had the urge to get intimate with a guy, he has very much ignored the issue of homosexuality at large.

But now, he knows that his little brother thinks completely differently about all of this, and he can't help but wonder how, for one, all of this happened and, of course, how he never noticed before. It's true that Sam is a very private person, but with his tendency to get overly emotional and the never-ending urge to talk about things, Dean had not thought it possible for Sam to keep something that big from him.

He remembers all their little talks and verbal spats they'd had because of him trying to 'pimp' Sam out, or about Sam could not understand how Dean doesn't respect they way he prefers to live. It's not so much not respecting, because Dean has in fact a lot of respect for his little brother, but it's more worry and the wish to take care that leads to him trying time and time again to make Sam enjoy life a little more.

The way Blondie and his baby brother had batted their eyes at each other, though…it will take some adjusting on Dean's side, but he already plans on finding out what type of guys his brother goes for and making sure that Sam gets some on a regular basis. It can't be harder than picking up a woman, right? And Sam's a good-looking guy.

He huffs lightly and shakes his head to clear it from all thoughts Sam. He needs to concentrate on the case and the Hoodoo checkpoint he intends to find.

He passes a shop window and finally gets to the third street crossing. He searches for the neon of the Laundromat, but he can't find any sign. Great. Paul the waiter was probably just trying to get rid of him. Dean rolls his shoulders and looks down the street to his left and the street on to his right. Nope, no sign or neon of a Laundromat. Still, he decides to give it a chance and walks down the street, glimpsing into shops and displays and scanning both sides of the street.

After walking down two blocks, he passes a small backstreet. He stops and takes a few steps back. There, at the back of the street, is a small shop. It has no sign or letters, but through the glass front he can see people washing their clothes in the small Laundromat.

Okay, so Paul the waiter hadn't lied. He tugs his hands into the pockets of his jacket and strolls down towards the front of the shop. As far as he can make out, the people inside look normal, and he does not doesn't get any evil or dangerous vibes from the place.

The small bells on the door jingle as he pushes it open and enters the establishment. It smells of fabric softener and soap.

Dean gives the room a quick scan, but then proceeds to the back and the dark staircase he can make out. Just as he passes the last row of washing machines, a thin African girl steps out of the shadows of the staircase, a small cotton bag clutched tightly to her chest. She doesn't even so much as look at Dean, just passes him by on her way out.

The sounds of the Laundromat get slowly drowned out as he ascends the stairs to the upper level of the building. Dean wonders if he should have insisted on Sam coming with him but chastises himself almost at once for thinking such girly thoughts. He can do this on his own. He's just here to talk, after all.

There's a reddish line of dust right along the doorstep, and he remembers the brick dust. For a moment, he wonders what will happen when he steps over it; it is for humans, after all, but nothing happens.

The room is full of rows of shelves that, in turn, are filled with all kinds of bottles, cans, tins, glasses, candles, and other stuff. It looks a little bit like a supermarket for Hoodoo. He strolls around, checking out various things that arouse his interest, but all the while, he steadily makes his way to the back and the counter there.

There are two people at the counter. An African woman, who looks to be the proprietor of this shop, and a young man. The guy hands her some money and then leaves without another word.

It's his turn, and he steps up to the woman that's putting the received money away. Once the money is taken care of, two dark brown eyes focus on him.

"Hello, Dean." The voice is surprisingly soft, but what really gets to him is that she knows his name.

"How…?"

"How do I know your name?" Great, she's amused with him. "I wouldn't be a good Hoodoo doctor if I wasn't able to do something as easy as that, hm? So, what brings you here?"

If there's one thing he really doesn't like, it's people who get the upper hand on him, and this lady here is not making him a happy camper. But he needs her help, and if she's as good as she claims to be, he's certain she'll be able to help.

"I was wondering if you can tell me something about a little slave girl that was murdered in the swamps outside the town?"

"The girl that was seen on Halloween?" It was more a statement than a question, but Dean nodded nonetheless. "That is some nasty business you are investigating. It's not as easy as it would seem."

She looks off into the distance, well, into the rows of shelves at least, and stays quiet. Nothing happens for a couple of seconds, but then her eyes flicker to his face and they stay fixed on it.

"You want to know about the girl whose ghost was seen on Halloween. There's not much that can be told since nobody ever knew all the details, but I'll do my best." She grabs the stool that's behind her and sits down on it.

"In 1734, there was an incident in the town. One of the biggest houses was burned down. The perpetuator was never found, but after two more houses were set afire, it was decided that a group of slaves were at fault. They were hanged without a trial. Nobody cared why they did it, but among the other slaves, a story was told. The story of a young girl, Lily, not older than eleven, that had been raped and killed by a group of rich townsmen. It happened in the swamps, it was said. Nobody ever found the body of the girl, and her disappearance was never remarked anywhere but that did not mean there were no people to remember her. One of the men setting the fires had been her older brother."

That was more information than he had expected. "So, anybody seen the ghost after all of this happened?"

"No. There never was any sighting of the girl. But things are changing, and Halloween is a time where all kinds of spirits are closer to the world of the living. Maybe she crossed over that night."

"Huh, so since nobody actually bore witness to the murder back then, nobody knows where the girl's grave is?" Dean already knew the answer to this, but it can't hurt to ask anyway.

"Dear son, they most probably dumped her corpse into the swamp where the alligators took care of it. I don't think that you will find any remains of her."

Great, that was really great. "Thank you for the information."

"Dean, don't be afraid. Believe in yourself." Her eyes never left his, and he got a strange feeling in his stomach.

"Sure. Whatever you say." He's not sure what to make of the last remark, and he really wants to get out of here.

There's something about this Hoodoo magic stuff that he just doesn't feel too comfortable with. Sam would just chat with her about what herbs to use in what spell and when which symbol was used in this or that rite for the first time. Dean is not that knowledgeable in this field. He knows his own fair share of things, just enough to make him dangerous, but that's that.

"Goodbye Dean." She smiles at him as if she knows what he's thinking and how he feels. He really doesn't like stuff like this.

"Yeah, thanks for the help and all the information." She just smiles some more and Dean decides that he's getting out of the shop.

Turning his back on the counter, he takes bigger steps than usual and covers the space to the door in almost no time at all. He was down the stairs and then back into the brightly lit Laundromat in no time. The sounds and smells are so different from the shop above that for a short second they make his head reel, and he takes a deep breath to find his center again.

The twilight outside starts to cast everything in shadows, and he casually strolls down the back street back in the direction he came from. He'll go back to the diner, get the car, and then head back to the motel.

Should he check if Sam was still in the diner? He's not sure what to do about that. They really have to talk about what Dean found out, but then again, how often does it happen that his little baby brother finds somebody he's interested in? As far as Dean knows, not that often.

So, he has the choice between job and fun. Dean thinks about the many times the table had been turned. He remembered Sam heading back to the motel alone and Dean staying back with some woman. The nice thing would be to let Sam stay to flirt some more with Blondie. He just isn't sure how nice he's feeling about all of this. It's not the gay thing, it's just some feeling he can't quite put a finger on.

The walk back is over before he's finished thinking about the Sam situation, and before he's able to make a decision. But then again, no decision is needed since Sam is sitting on the hood of the Impala, waiting for his brother, smiling at him.

"Were you successful?" His whole posture and demeanour was relaxed. This better not mean what Dean suspected it did.

"Yeah, got some good information, but unfortunately, we might have a problem with the ghost." He unlocks the car and slips into the driver's seat.

On the other side, Sam folds his long frame into the seat and shuffles a little bit until he's comfortable. His little brother looks outside the window and watches the people and cars passing by. There's a peace surrounding him that's a welcome change from the usual restlessness and tension.

"What kind of problem are we talking about?" The outside loses all of its interest as Sam focuses on his brother. "Should we ask for help?"

"I don't think anyone can help us with this one. The problem with the ghost that attacked Neil and Carrie is that it won't be that easy to pin down. Our little girl was buried in the swamps, possibly eaten by alligators."

"What?" Sam turns fully to Dean.

"It's a long sad story about a poor girl but the bottom line is that there are no bones to burn. We need to think about other options." He pulls over into the motel parking lot. It has filled up considerably while they were gone, but the spot in front of their room is still free.

"Why can't we start our hunt, find the supernatural being, and kill it for once." His little brother opens the Impala's door and climbs out.

There's nothing Dean can say about that, because it's exactly what he's been asking himself many times already. It's some kind of universal law that a hunt never, ever runs smoothly.

He follows Sam into the room. It's humid and stuffy, making him break out into sweat. Shrugging off his leather jacket, Dean plops down in one of the chairs at the table and watches his brother digging his stuff out of his duffle bag. Clothes get piled up on the bed, and then his little brother's greatest treasure is carefully lifted out of the bag.

Sam sits down opposite Dean and sets up his laptop, sliding the data card into the slot. His floppy brown hair falls over his forehead and covers his eyes. Soon, the clacking of the keyboard can be heard.

Dean once more thinks about bringing the blonde, Paul, up and asking about how things went after he left. The truth is, he wants to ask his brother about the gay thing, but he gathers that it's much more inconspicuous if he asks about Blondie.

"So you're gay, huh?" Very smooth.

His comment has no impact at first , but then he notices that the clacking has stopped, and hazel eyes watch him through floppy bangs. "No."

"But…I thought you and Blondie had something going on there." He's not stupid. Just because Sam is the college boy doesn't mean that he doesn't know stuff. And he knows what he saw back there at the diner.

"Just because I like guys does not mean that I'm gay, Dean." There's the lecture tone again.

"Yeah? What does it make you, then?" Dean really hates it when Sam gets all intellectual on him. Okay, so he didn't even finish high school and Sam went to college. So Dean doesn't do the research and study all this theoretic stuff and Sam probably knows every spell and charm backwards. That does not give him the right to treat Dean like he's an idiot.

"Bisexual, I guess."

"There's a difference?" It's like with the stupid Siamese vs. conjoined twins debate they'd had. "It still means that you fuck with guys."

"It's great that you're so astute, Dean." Aha, lecture and annoyance. Not a charming combination, baby brother. "Unlike a gay guy, a bisexual man fucks and likes fucking women as well."

"Like that makes such a difference."

"Dean, just shut up." Sam closes the laptop and heads for the bathroom. He's ticked off now, but Dean really couldn't care less. It's not as if he insulted him or anything, he was just asking.

The sound of water splashing alerts him to the fact that his brother won't be back for some time, and he decides to quickly check his e-mails. He doesn't use it that often, but from time to time he's able to work modern appliances.

He logs into his g-mail account and finds 65 new messages waiting. Half a minute later, after deleting about twenty offers for penis enlargement – he definitely has no problems in that department – he finds six messages that are of importance. Two messages are from Jo and one is from Ellen. The others are from contacts he has from prior hunts.

The same time the shower stops, Dean logs out and closes the laptop again. He decides to get a beer and some chips. Grabbing his jacket, he heads out for the reception and the vending machines. The evening has cooled the air a little bit, but the humidity is still making things rather uncomfortable.

The reception is full because a group of college students are checking in. They are six girls giggling and watching Dean make his way over to the vending machine. One of them, a big-chested blonde girl, bats her eyes at him, and he thinks about working his charm. The discussion he wants to have with his little brother comes to his mind, and with an internal groan Dean, just flashes a smile at her. They're checking in for three nights; he'll have enough time later on to fully enjoy her offer.

He slides the coins into the slot and studies the food on display. None of the sandwiches look appealing to him, and he settles on a bag of vinegar chips and a Hershey's chocolate bar. Whatever. It's not like he's that hungry, after all.

On his walk back to the room, he wonders about the new side of Sam he got to see and his brother's protectiveness of it. Sam feels strongly about a lot of things, and he's someone to hide it. Being quite the opposite, his baby brother's emotional side makes Dean kind of uncomfortable sometimes. It's just not normal for a guy. But then again, that might be his brother's gay side speaking.

When he returns to the room, Sam is sitting in front of his laptop again, clacking and looking up information that might help them with their current hunt. His demeanour is peaceful. Dean throws the food on his bed and shrugs out of his jacket, which he then hangs over the back of the empty chair.

Dean lies back on his bed, TV remote in hand, and switches it on only to zap through the channels. There are a couple of afternoon talk shows, a rerun of Shaft, Paris Hilton working at a farm on MTV, and a lot of TV shows that he could do without. Munching his vinegar chips, he divides his attention between MTV and Sam, watching his brother and waiting for the right time to pick up their earlier discussion.

When Paris Hilton scares the tenth cow with her squeals, Dean deems it the perfect time. "So, you're bisexual, huh?"

"Dean." His little brother is almost whining. "Is there a point to this inane questioning?"

"I'm just curious is all. Why didn't you ever tell me?"

The clacking stops, and Sam turns on his chair to face Dean. He has his eyebrows raised and looks at Dean disbelieving. "Dude, why should I have told you? First, it's none of your business, and second, I wasn't really expecting you to be very understanding about it."

That hurts. Not the business part, but the understanding. Just because he isn't interested in guys does not mean that he's a homophobe. He thought his little brother knew that. "Sorry for being interested in what's going on in my brother's life."

He stares fixedly at the TV screen and sees the fifteenth cow making her escape and the desperate farmer running after her, trying to shepard it back into the corral. He stuffs more chips into his mouth and lets the anger he feels about Sam's response fester.

After three more clacks, there's the sound of the laptop being closed.

"Why are you so interested in this?"

"Just leave it." He really doesn't want to start a fight with his little brother over this.

"Dean," Exasperation, hello. "Really, why are you so interested in this? It's not like it was of any importance until now."

If Sam thinks that this is going to incite him to talk to him, he's in for a surprise. Dean hates nothing more than somebody telling him what to do or what he's allowed to care about. It's his decision to make and nobody else's.

"Come on, dude, talk to me." This is accompanied with a sigh for effects. "Dean, this is ridiculous."

He thinks about increasing the volume of the TV, but then again, he would have to endure the squealing of Paris Hilton. Where does Sam get the idea that he can say stuff like that and then make it look like it's not him, but Dean being unreasonable and in the wrong? And the really stupid thing is that it works, every fucking time.

When Sam starts drumming his fingers on his laptop, Dean can feel his back muscles tense up and a cold shiver running down his spine. He hates this.

Another drum roll and he's had enough. "Stop it!"

"What?"

"You know I hate it when you do that." He turns his head towards his brother and finds Sam staring at him.

"Will you answer my question now?" The impatience doesn't look any more appealing than it sounds.

"What question?" Dean doesn't care if it's childish or if he's never won this game in the past.

"God, you are such a child sometimes. You know damn well which question I'm talking about, Dean." There's this stubbornness that gives a hard set to his eyes and a slight downward curl to his mouth. "Can we talk about something like normal people for once?"

"But then again, you always complain how our life's not normal. If you want that, you'll have to go back to Stanford and your student friends there." There's another squeal on screen, and Dean has a good excuse to look away from his little brother and avoid seeing the look in his baby brother's eyes switch from stubborn to hurt.

The silence from Sam's side that follows weighs heavily on him, and he might actually begin to feel twitches of guilt. But he'll be damned if his little brother's puppy dog eyes will make him give in. Damn. That is exactly why he never wins against him.

Several more seconds tick by, and the urge to apologize becomes stronger. It always goes like this: Dean asks about something Sam feels uncomfortable about or simply doesn't want to talk about. His little brother says something not very nice. Dean sulks, and then Sam starts with the puppy dog treatment. It's not hard to guess who breaks first.

It's always Dean.

Since he can't look at Paris Hilton for a minute longer before hurling something at the TV screen, he grabs the remote and switches it off. The huge disadvantage he has now is that there is nothing that keeps him from looking at his baby brother's face and seeing the hurt look on it.

After another deep breath, he turns back to face the pitiful puppy dog eyes that are Sam Winchester and finds his brother watching him closely. The lack of the puppy eyes throws him to such an extent that he can't help himself but react. "What?"

This question apparently merits no answer, and so they continue to stare at each other. There is something in Sam's eyes that makes him nervous, something calculating. But it's curiosity as well that he can recognise in the hazel eyes that watch him.

Great! Now he's turned into one of his little brother's research projects. He decides that this is not what he likes at all , and there's only one way to direct Sam's curiosity away from him and into another direction: a hunt. Fortunately, they're on a hunt.

"I think we should take a look at the place during the night and see if we can find the spirit of the girl. Maybe we can find some hints about what to do."

This breaks the spell, and his brother once more focuses on the research for the hunt. "Yeah, I'll check some more on the net."

"Great." This works every time.

Dean is determined to bring up the gay thing again in the future, but he'll wait some before the second try. He doesn't know why his interest in Sam's life provoked such a reaction from his baby brother, but he won't be kept from finding out more about this side of Sam's life.

Since the only thing on TV is either a shitty show or Paris Hilton, he decides to head out and get some food and drinks for their stakeout. He stretches one last time and rolls up from the comfortable mattress. Grabbing the keys from the table, he shrugs into his jacket.

The movement so close to him catches Sam's attention. "Get me some Red Bull too. I hate the energy drinks you pick."

"Picky." Last item he needs is his wallet, and then he opens the door.

"And I want some Oreos!" Dean closes the door on his brother before the list gets longer. His brother is one of the pickiest eaters he's ever come across. Dean is not like that. If it's edible and somehow resembles food, he'll eat it. He's spent too many years with his father on the hunt to care about food that much. He knows that you eat what you find because you can't be sure that you'll find something any time soon.

He slips into the Impala behind the steering wheel and closes the door. The second he's slipped the key into ignition, his cell phone pings and a new message is in his inbox. He heaves a sigh. There we go, more shopping instructions.

He'll check Sam's order at the supermarket.

Dean starts the car and heads for the supermarket they passed by on their way to the swamps. The heat and stuffiness inside the car makes him roll down his window, and he lets fresh air inside. There are traces of dusk already in the evening sky.


	4. Chapter 4

Traffic is almost non-existent, and the only car in front of him is a soccer mom in a spacious Ford van. He follows her to the parking lot of the supermarket and parks the Impala. Almost the whole lot is filled with cars, and he makes his way through the rows of metal to the entrance of the market.

At the entrance, he grabs a cart and pushes it down the fruit and vegetable aisle to the back and the cooler. While perusing the sandwiches and baguettes, he fishes his phone out of his jacket and opens the message inbox. There's the message waiting, and, as expected, it's from Sam. His brother wants a bacon and cheese sandwich and a tuna sandwich. And, never forget the gummi bears.

Dean wonders how his baby brother can stay that fit with all the sweets he puts away. It's not like Dean can't eat a whole horse without breaking a sweat, but the masses of sugar and chocolate his baby brother puts away would make a bunch of PMS-ing teenage girls proud.

He grabs a tuna and a bacon and cheese sandwich and decides on a pickle and ham and grilled chicken sandwich. The chicken sandwich has extra hot Texas b-b-q sauce. The main course dealt with, he pushes the cart through the aisles to the sweets and dumps a family bag of peanut M&amp;Ms into the cart in addition to the gummi bears.

His last additions to the cart are a six pack of Red Bull and a six pack of Heineken. With his last treasures added to the goods, he slowly pushes his cart toward the exit and the cash registers. He gets in line behind the shortest queue.

His thoughts jump from his failed talk with Sam about the gay thing to tonight's stake out and back. He reprimands himself for getting so messed up by the whole gay stuff. It's not priority number one at the moment, and he's supposed to be thinking about the information they were able to gather so far and try to think of possible ways to get rid of the people-abducting ghost. The thing is, though, that he feels betrayed by his brother's reaction to his taking an interest in Sam's life.

Dean has not ever felt the need to need to—or been interested in—getting more intimate with another man, but he's no prude and he was sure until now that Sam and he would share their secrets. There was nobody else they could trust, after all.

Okay, so there had been the thing with the visions and Jessica's death, but they hadn't been in contact back then, and things had change in their relationship. Sam was talking about this emotion stuff all the time, after all. Why not talk about this as well?

He is next in line at the register and starts putting the stuff up. His obsessing over why Sam hadn't confided in him isn't getting him anywhere, and there's really other stuff to consider at the moment. He'll get to this particular topic at a later time. He needs more time to think about a new way to approach his baby brother, anyway.

He pays for his purchases and takes the bag that the teenage girl has filled for him. She smiles coyly through her eyelashes at him, and Dean gifts her with his ten thousand watt smile, which dazzles her for a moment but makes her blush even harder afterwards.

Thoughts of his brother's disapproving look make him leave without flirting some more. It's not like he's got the hots for teenage girls, but this one is approximately seventeen, eighteen years old, and there's no harm in playing his charm a little bit. Except his brother thinks there is. Man, the looks his baby brother gives him sometimes are the quickest turnoff ever. It makes him feel like he's some brainless idiot that has no control over what he does.

Back through the jungle of cars, and Dean dumps his bag on the front seat. He gets into the car and starts his drive back to the motel.

He consciously directs his thoughts to the topic of the hunt and replays, once more, what he knows so far. It's not much, but it's all that he's got to go on for now. It bothers him that the ghost of the little girl had been inactive for such a long time. Even more, that it had only attacked this one time, not hurting the girlfriend as well. It was just not how these dead fuckers worked.

Stopping at a red traffic light, Dean leans his head against the steering wheel and takes a deep breath. Today has been a day like every other, but once again, he could feel how the tension about his brother's mysterious destiny, the hunt for Wandell's killer, and the head hunt for Dean was getting to him more and more. It's the physical feeling of being spread too thin. The psychological feeling is something along the lines of powerlessness. He hates feeling like this. He hates not being able to do anything about a situation.

For the rest of the drive, he plans their night time excursion into the swamps.

The Impala is parked, once more, in front of their motel room, and he carries the bag from the car inside. His little brother hasn't moved from his place in front of the laptop. Dean can read something about slavery in Louisiana as the title and drops down onto the other chair at the table. The jacket goes over the back of the chair and the bag onto the table, and he sprawls in the rather uncomfortable piece of furniture.

"Did you get my message?" Sam's eyes never leave the screen of the computer as he gathers as much information as possible about the situation at hand.

"Uh huh." Dean reaches into the bag and takes one of the beer bottles out of the six pack. He twists the top off and puts the bottle next to Sam's laptop. The next beer he opens is for himself, and he takes a deep gulp of the brew. It's lukewarm, not the temperature a beer ought to have. Well, he'll have to put the others into the fridge.

Another swig, and he rolls his shoulders to release some of the tension that has his muscles in cramps. "Did you find anything interesting?"

"No. There's nothing about the girl at all. There's even less about haunting in the swamps, and the newspaper articles about the abduction on Halloween are all about alligators, convoluted murder schemes, and tragic suicide." Sam picks up the beer and takes a swig.

"Great. That's just great." He feels some of the earlier anger well up but squashes it to keep his calm. "That means we have no idea at all what was and is going on here. I love hunts that start out like this. Usually the clueless part comes much later in a hunt."

Dean empties his bottle. He was hoping that with some hints, his brother would miraculously find the answer to all their questions. Apparently not.

"Yeah, usually we go into the hunt with an idea what it's about. And usually people have some idea of a past event that can be linked to the present. You know Dean, I wouldn't be surprised if the ghost turns out to be fake or a dead end."

"Even better." There's nothing to be done about that at the moment, though. "Well, the only thing we can do so far is go there and take another look around. Damn, I'd prefer doing that a little better prepared."

He gets up and stretches. He watches his brother shut down his beloved laptop and put it away. He swears that damn piece of junk gets more attention and devotion than any living being. No wonder his little brother doesn't have too much luck in the relationship department.

Together, they pack everything necessary for the stake out. The bag with the food goes in last. Dean grabs his jacket and heads out to the car. He doesn't have to look back to know that his little brother has the bag with all the necessities and is following obediently. There are some things that he can rely on, and one of them is that Sam will always clean up after him and take care of things for them.

Once again, he heads out from the motel parking lot. They follow the main street out of town and return to the scene of crime. The Impala is parked at almost exactly the same spot, and Dean seriously considers leaving his leather jacket in the car.

He pops the hood of the trunk and opens the lower compartment of the trunk. Sam holds the duffel bag open, and he starts filling the bag with all kinds of goodies. In go two cans of salt and the shotgun. Some holy water, chalk, and so on.

Once they have everything they need, he locks up the car and follows Sam, who's already heading off into the swamp.

The evening is not much cooler than the day, and the damn humidity makes him break out in sweat minutes after getting out of the car. He hates this, and he hates trudging into the swamps without any information about what's going on even more. What's making this an even worse experience are the freaking mosquito flocks that keep clouding around them.

His little brother is stopping and scanning the pitch black water next to them. A sudden anxiousness has him scanning the lighted landscape for any dangers of the natural or the supernatural kind. Dean likes to take precautions and he takes the EMF meter out of his jacket pocket and scans the area. Nothing to be found on the supernatural plane.

A last look out over the water, and he follows Sam, who's continued the trek through the wilderness to the crime scene. He leaves the EMF meter out though, just in case.

In silence, they trudge on. The swamp looks very different from the daylight version he already knows. Dean gets why the kids had wanted to do a party out here; it's creepy as hell. It's also rather difficult to see where to step. Even with the flashlights, the darkness out here is so complete that it seems like a black cloth is draped over everything.

"Dean." Sam has stopped and waits up for him.

When he arrives at his brother's side, he can see why. There's the glow of a flashlight blinking through the tangle of shrubbery, Spanish Moss, trees, and vines. Great, some kids doing a dare or trying to get a kick out of looking for a ghost. That's so what they don't need.

"Damn." He clenches his teeth and glares at the light flashes.

"We could wait for them to leave." Sam frowns at the light. "If they plan on waiting for the ghost to show up, it could be a long wait though."

"I'd much rather freak the hell out of the kids. How did they get here anyway? I didn't see any cars of bikes parked anywhere."

"I have no idea. But that doesn't change anything about what we're doing now."

"Well, let's get closer for once. We'll be on scene quicker in case something happens." Dean brushes past his brother and heads on into the thicket before them towards the nightly adventurers.

They sneak closer, their flashlights switched off. The voices of the pubescent teenagers can be heard after some time. A couple of steps closer towards their goal, Dean trips over something large and hard and only Sam's fast reaction saves him from falling on top of whatever tripped him. What the heck? He squints down and makes out the shapes of four bikes. This reconnaissance stake-out is pissing him off more and more.

He carefully climbs over the obstacle, and they creep closer, hiding in the complete dark of the shadows.

"How long are we going to stay here? I told my parents I was at the cinema." The squeaky voice has big troubles avoiding sounding like Mickey Mouse. Oh yeah, puberty is hell.

"Are you scared that the ghost will take us away?" Voice number two is more mature. Had it not been for the nervous breaking over the word ghost, the speaker would have made the impression of being cool and composed.

Dean presses deeper into the tangle of foliage and vines and notices a tight gap in the wall of plants and underbrush. He taps Sam on the shoulder and nods over at his discovery. A short look and a shrug and they silently make their way over to the gap. He treads carefully to avoid making any noise, but it is kind of hard to move smoothly through the jungle of plants when you can't even see your hand in front of your eyes.

"Shut up, the both of you!" This voice is already finished with breaking. "We'll stay a little longer, but if this stupid ghost girl doesn't show up in the next thirty to forty minutes, we're going to head back home."

Apparently, the teenage camping excursion won't last much longer. Dean wondered how the kids had gotten here. It's approximately 20 miles to town, and with the bikes, the ride ought to be something like one and a half hours.

He focuses on the path before him and climbs through the tangle of plants until he reaches their goal.

The path through the thicket is very narrow, but Dean squeezes through and finds himself in a small clearing that's practically fenced in by the thicket on each side. He remembers the party from Halloween and assumes that this is the place where the kids had been when Neil had disappeared. There are the burnt remnants of a bonfire in the center. He crouches down next to the ashes and the burnt grass.

Dean finds it strange that the whole group had been so close to the scene of the abduction but still nobody had heard or seen anything. Well, besides Carrie's screaming later on. It strikes him as odd that Neil hadn't made it to the party. Judging from the scene of crime to the path and the party location, he must have left the path that led towards his friends on purpose. Why?

Had the ghost of the girl scared him and made him turn in the wrong direction? But why didn't he try to call for help if that had happened? Dean gets up from the ground and takes a good look around.

The clearing is not big but is large enough to hold a group of people. Slowly, he walks around and takes a good look at everything to find some clues or hints about what had happened that night. While he's squinting at details that he's not able to see, Sam has started to scan the area with his EMF meter.

Unsurprisingly, there's nothing to be found. At the scene of the abduction, there had been remnants of a supernatural presence, but not here in the clearing. Whatever had attacked Neil had not entered the party location afterwards.

Deciding to get a better look at the natural fence around the opening, he strolls to the tangle of Moss and trees. He's just inspecting the thicket when there's a loud scream and even more shouting. Pubescent male voices fill the night with hellish squeaking.

"There! There!"

Sam is already squeezing through the gap and Dean runs after him. He reaches into his pocket and takes out a small bag of salt. It's important to be prepared.

"What the fuck? Why are you screaming like that?" It's the mature voice once more.

"There's something in the water!" Mickey Mouse is apparently wetting his pants. "There! It's moving away from us!"

"It's just a fucking snake." Voice number four is a child's voice but filled with so much cockiness it's hard to believe that it belongs to a kid. "Calm down, idiot."

"Wow, that's a huge snake."

"Whatever, I've had enough. Let's go." Mr. Mature delegates the others back to the bikes, and there's the sound of metal and footsteps.

At last, the four heroes have had enough of their adventure, and he and Sam can finally start their search for more clues. Dean waits for the sounds of the teenage boys to grow fainter. When he can't hear their inane chatter anymore, he turns around to his little brother only to find Sam crouching next to him and watching the water.

"It is a damn huge snake." The words make Dean look out over the swamp as well, and he notices the long and thick shape gliding through the water. The light of the moon shines on the wet scales of the reptile.

"Huh, d'you think there's a trickster somewhere around?" He wonders if there is something like Urban Legends about friggin' huge snakes in swamps. This thing is giving him the creeps, hard time. But then again, everything in this freaky swamp gives him the creeps. The loud whistling of the EMF meter doesn't really calm him down.

"No." That's all the answer his baby brother gives him before continuing with the EMF scan. The reading is no different than this afternoon. Apparently, nothing had changed, which was good and bad in equal values. It's great that nothing had happened and that everyone is well, but it's stupid as fuck that there are no further clues as to what had happened that night and where the ghost of the little girl is now.

The monster snake disappears from his sight when it slithers between some trees or something, and Dean joins his brother in the search for more clues. There's nothing out of the ordinary besides the obvious, of course.

Dean turns his head and takes a good look around. He carefully watches for other abnormally large animals but only finds dark night and the silhouettes of trees. The plants are looking freakingly enough supernatural with the strange light and the acoustics of croaking and screaming. All this weird fauna and flora shit unnerves him more than it should.

He gives the dark water the Evil Eye but steps closer to the edge to get a better look at the place where Neil Beauregard did his disappearing act. There's nothing out of the ordinary. It's the same freaky plants all around them. If it wasn't for the girlfriend's story and the Hoodoo doctor knowing about it, he would file this under stupid Halloween pranks and be done with it.

Dean is about to look somewhere else for clues or suspicious things when, suddenly, there's a young girl standing in front of him. Right there on the water. It's the ghost they've been looking for.

Multi-tasking, Dean grabs his shotgun loaded with rock salt and signals Sam for help. "Sammy, over here!"

The ghost looks exactly like the girlfriend described it. The girl couldn't have been older than eleven when she was murdered, and the torn and muddy state of her dress are a good indicator that she didn't leave this world peacefully. The skin has a greenish hue and there are spots where the skin peels away to reveal rotting flesh and bones. The freakiest thing about her, though, are the eyes. They have a milky-white film that makes them look almost white.

Sam is beside him almost as soon as he calls him and now they have a problem because, no bones, remember? Dean thinks about just loading the murdering thing with a shot of rock salt, but then it'll re-form and attack again.

For a couple of seconds, they stare at the spirit, and the spirit stares at them. Well, if it wasn't such a dangerous situation, it might actually be boring, , with all the staring and such. It's when the girl starts walking over the water towards them, like fucking Jesus Christ that Dean decides he's had enough and shoots her.

The salt tears into the spirit body of the ghost girl and makes her disappear. He's on the look out for her reappearance, but nothing happens. He glances at his baby brother and finds Sam scanning their surroundings with the EMF meter. Nothing.

For the first time ever, there's not a trace of anything supernatural. He suddenly becomes aware of the silence that has spread after his shot. No croaking, no chirping, no screaming, nothing. It's fucking peaceful.

"That's fucking weird."

"Yeah, she didn't even try to attack us." What the ...?

"Dude, I was talking about her not coming back. And in case you didn't notice, she was getting started on the attacking part when I shot her." Dean stares at his brother with disbelief. Sometimes Sam can be a real freak.

"She wasn't attacking us. I think she wanted to tell us something." Yeah right, she did.

"Whatever." He turns his back on the haunted water and does a last check of the place. He wants to make sure that they didn't miss anything. Not that there's a lot to start with, but one can never know.

"Dean, what she wanted to say might have been important." There you go again. Sam is annoyed and giving a lecture. The most unbecoming combination there is.

"As long as she doesn't tell us where her bones are, I don't give a damn about what she wants to say. And we both know how likely that is."

This time, it's only an exasperated huff and an annoyed eyeroll that he gets as an answer, and Dean thinks that they're definitely improving conversation-wise. It's not like two guys are supposed to have a real conversation. Talking is completely gay.

But then again, since his brother is half-gay, the talking and sharing feelings stuff makes a hell of lot more sense now. Is he obligated to be all emotional, too, or will it make him look like a homophobe if he doesn't share his innermost fears and doubts with his brother?

This debate confuses the hell out of him, and Dean decides to think about that some other time. Tomorrow is always the perfect answer for things like this.

Since the ghost doesn't want to come back today and there's nothing else they can do tonight, they might as well return to the motel and get some more sleep in. They still have to talk to the girlfriend's friend, and somehow Dean can't shake the feeling that they will have to talk to the Hoodoo lady from the Laundromat again.

Unfortunately, the croaking and stuff starts again, and the creepy noises of the swamp at night continue at their high volume. Some of those frogs sound like something or someone being killed.

"I think we're done for the night. There's nothing to see, and with the ghost staying away as well, there's no use in hanging around any longer." And he really can imagine doing something more fun than getting all muddy and being eaten my mosquitoes out here in the bayou.

"Okay, I think we'll have to look into alternative ways of dealing with spirits than salting and burning the bones." Well done, Sherlock. No wonder Sam is the college boy.

"I guess that means you'll have to do more research, Sammy."

"Dude, why do I always have to do the boring stuff? While I'm researching everything and getting things done, you'll chat up some chick and fuck her." Oh boy, Sammy is upset. Maybe he had been looking forward to getting better acquainted with blonde Paul from the diner.

"That's because you're the brains and I'm the body of our unbeatable duo. Besides, I have a reputation to uphold. I can't be seen doing anything brainy."

There's no reaction to this but a tightening of Sam's mouth, and his brother pockets the EMF meter while passing Dean and striding down the cleared path through the thicket. His freaking long legs eat up the distance, and soon Dean has to choose between falling behind or running after his baby brother.

No way is he going to run after Sam like a school girl with a crush. Dean has got the keys of the car, so his brother will have to wait at the Impala anyway.

The trampled pathway is even harder to see, and he could swear that the night is darker than before. He really hates crawling around in nature, and his flashlight only helps so much. The roots and the vines and the moss and all the other shit do not make him a happy camper. He'd prefer some haunted house or building.

At the beginning of his hunting days, when Sam was still a baby and their father had dragged them with him everywhere, Dean had thought the woods and other nature stuff was cool. There's no kid who wouldn't like going on an adventure, but the novelty and the excitement are long gone, and now he just hates all of it.

He narrowly avoids tripping over some root thing when a noise to his left has him flash the light out over the water. Out there in the middle of the swamp, he can see the light reflect oddly, and upon closer inspection, he recognises the shimmer of wet scales. The huge-ass snake is swimming in the direction of the place where the ghost girl had made her nightly appearance.

Dean steps closer to the water and watches the large reptile glide through the water. The movements and the sheer size of it are scary as hell. The animal makes a slight change in its direction and swims away into the night again.

The sudden hand on his shoulder has Dean grab for his gun, but he only comes to face with his little brother.

"What the fuck! Don't do things like that, you freak."

"Calm down. The EMF meter was showing some disturbances and I wanted to see what was going on." Calm down, my ass. It's not cool to surprise people like that, and it's rather stupid to pull some stunt like that with an armed person.

"I could have shot you, and next time I will." He hates being taken by surprise, and he hates it even more if it's Sam who does it. There will be no end to the teasing for the next few days. With something like this, his little brother has the memory of an elephant.

"Next time, pay more attention to your surroundings. Did anything happen?" Besides Sam sneaking up on him like that, is the question.

"That freaky huge snake was swimming out there in the water, but it disappeared again."

As if he doesn't believe Dean was telling the truth, Sam scans the water with his eyes and his EMF meter. Dean decides that he's had enough and heads on out of the thicket and down the trodden path to the car.

Outside the jungle of trees, bushes, and moss, a slight breeze makes the sticky air more bearable but plasters the sweaty shirt onto his body. The damp cloth feels cold and uncomfortable. Dean is glad that he left his jacket on, so his back stays wet but at least warm. The only downside is that his jacket smells like wet leather.

By the time he can see the Impala, Sam has caught up to him. Dean catches glimpses his little brother sends him. It's as if he is waiting for something to happen, and it pisses him off that he doesn't know what it is. After the fifth look, he has had enough, though.

"What's the matter? Why do you keep staring at me like that?" The questions burst out more annoyed than he wanted them to, but Sam's strange behaviour unnerves him somewhat.

"Nothing."

"Uh huh, you keep looking over at me all the time. So don't tell me it's nothing." There are times when Dean feels like some experiment of his brother's that has to be checked on from time to time to see if something has happened yet. "It's freaking me out, man."

"Dude, everything's freaking you out."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Meet Sam Winchester, Mister Allusion. It's like his little brother is unable to say a sentence that's not obscure or completely unrelated to the topic at hand. And, of course, he expects Dean to understand what the statement is all about. Like that's ever going to happen.

"What I'm saying is that you're acting weird today. The talk at the motel, where you asked me stuff that you had no business asking, and now this comment. That's exactly why I never told you that I'm bisexual." That hurts. How can Sam say something like that without even noticing the emotional pain the comment causes? Isn't he supposed to be the caring and sharing one?

"You're an ass. I was just asking a normal question, which you, by the way, did not answer. And now you were looking strangely at me. Just because you were the one to go to Stanford doesn't mean that I'm stupid." Why does it always come down to the stupid college thing?

"I never said or implied anything like that, Dean. What is it with you and the college thing?" Sam takes three larger steps and comes to a halt in front of him. With his arms crossed over his chest, he glares into Dean's eyes. "And I did not look at you strangely. If anything, I was keeping a watch out for anything supernatural."

"Yeah, whatever." But Sam won't leave it at that. His baby brother grabs a hold of Dean's arm to keep him from walking away. "Dude, let go."

An angry jerk has his arm freed and an odd look on Sam's face. Dean knows that his brother thinks and feels differently about a lot of things, and most of the time he has no difficulties thinking inside Sammy's box. To work together in the hunting business, it's important to be able to read and trust the other completely. Sometimes, though, Sam's face and words are like hieroglyphs to him.

So, when Dean frees himself from Sam's grasp, he sees a lot of different things on his baby brother's face, but he's not able to read any of them. He could ask his brother, but since the question about the looks went so well, he doesn't have really high hopes on the explanation of the faces.

Sweat trickles down his forehead and runs into his right eye. The liquid burns like hell, and Dean rubs his eyes, which only results in adding some more sweat as well as some grime. Dean really hates nature. And he hates this weather. Even more than the nature part.

The mulish silence from Sam is a good sign that his brother is, once again, angry with Dean, but at the moment he really couldn't care less about it. Ever since the possession incident, Sam has been short-tempered with Dean, and there was more than one time when he demanded to get the promise of Dean killing him in case another demon took possession of him.

Like that is going to happen. The killing part. There's no way that he will ever let his baby brother come to harm. It might not mean anything to Sam, but his little brother is family, and for Dean, there's nothing and no one of greater importance on this fucking planet. It hurts him to hear Sam talk about dying and leaving Dean alone like it's something to look forward to.

Well, it's like Sam is all excited about it, but the stubbornness with which he always comes back to it disturbs Dean a lot. It's just not normal to be so willing to sacrifice yourself.

Okay, so his brother is having a hard time. What with losing their mother when he was just a baby and the death of his girlfriend, both to this yellow-eyed freak. And now the death of their father, which is another touchy subject he doesn't want to think about, and the disappearance of Ava. All of those incidents linked to some demon and Sam's mysterious connection to it. But still, that's no reason to be so eager to sacrifice yourself.

Dean knows one thing for certain, though. Should there ever be a time when it comes down to Sam facing death, Dean will protect his baby brother from it with his own life if necessary. There's no way he will stand by or even help when his brother is dying. He's even willing to break the promise he made to his father.

Not like it will ever go that far. There's no way Sam will ever become evil. If there is a person who deserves to become a saint, it's his little brother.

The last time Sam brought the topic up that Dean failed to kill him at Bobby's or even before that, Dean had decked him one and told him in no uncertain words that he did not want to talk about that topic again. He refuses to acknowledge the promise he made at the Pierponnt Inn, since he thought Sam wouldn't remember the conversation the next day and it had only been to shut his drunken baby brother up.

Once they reach the Impala, Dean opens the trunk and dumps the shotgun and the flashlight into it. He steps back to let his brother put the duffle bag into the trunk and gets into the car. He's tired even though he got some rest during the afternoon. It has to be the stupid humidity that makes everything feel three times as exhausting as it normally does.

Dean slouches in the car seat and rests his head against the headrest. His eyes drift closed, and he exhales deeply. He's just so fucking tired all the time. He really thinks that they should have taken the break he had offered Sam. Not only because of the whole demon thing, but because Dean feels spread thin these days, and he could do with some down time.

The door at the passenger side opens, and Dean hears his brother climb into the car. After the door is pulled shut, there's silence in the car. It's not an uncomfortable silence, but it becomes one the longer it lasts.

Finally, Dean has had enough, and he sits up and starts the car. He doesn't look over at Sam because he really doesn't want to have another heart-to-heart or whatever else his brother might feel the need to share. This emotional stuff is too much on a good day, and Dean really doesn't want to hear any of it at a time like this.

The drive is quiet for the first ten minutes, but it doesn't stay that way.

"Dean, it really doesn't help the investigation and the hunt if we're constantly at each other's throats." Like it's all Dean's fault. Sam's constant insults and refusal to actually talk to him contributes its fair share to the problem.

"Yeah right, like I'm the one causing the trouble. I was just asking you a question when you went all ballistic on me."

"Okay, so I didn't react ideally, but I really am of the opinion that it's a topic that's nobody's business but mine." That's not the part that irks him. What he hates about the whole situation is that Sam thinks that Dean doesn't care or isn't interested enough in his baby brother's life that he would even care about it.

"I never asked about information like how often you fuck or get fucked by a guy, and I certainly do not remember asking about a detailed description of what you're doing with them, but it's insulting for you to assume that I care so little about you that I don't want to know about you." The words to describe what exactly bothers him about the whole thing fail him, and Dean once more realises why he hates talks like this. He's just not able to express and convey his emotions the way he wants to.

"I never assumed that you didn't care about me, it's just that…I never would have told dad, either. I hate it, but I feel like my admitting that I like guys would disappoint the both of you. Like I'm letting you down." That's complete shit. Why would Sam think something stupid like that about him? True, their dad wouldn't have been too happy about it, but Dean would never think anything like that about his baby brother, and Sam ought to know that.

"That is complete shit. I would never think any less about you, and I don't know why you think I would do something like that." Sam really is supposed to know him better than that.

"I know that it's stupid, but I can't help feeling like that." There's a hesitant pause before Sam continues. "You are really okay with me being bisexual?"

"Sure. As you long as you don't make a pass at me." This has Dean laugh, and he decides that it really is okay that his brother is half gay. "Dude, this bisexual thing is actually kinda neat. You're far less limited."

"Interested?" The teasing tone and Sam's amused grin makes Dean roll his eyes at Sam.

"Me getting it on with some guy? Not gonna happen." He always said that he would try anything once, but guys just don't turn him on.

"Let me tell you, though, that guys give better head than women." TMI. That's more than Dean wanted to know when he started this conversation.

"Dude, I'm driving! I said I don't want to know any details about what you and blondes like Paul from the diner get up to." He grimaces at the mental image. "Great, now I've got mental pictures of you and Paul doing the nasty. Nasty."

This provokes deep laughter from his brother, and Dean has to admit it feels good to hear it and to know that the tension between them has disappeared. Nothing good has ever come from he and Sam fighting, and with the current situation, Dean is always afraid his brother will take off without any warning, and he's afraid of what he'll discover upon finding Sam again, and, most of all, if he will even find his little brother again.

"Like it's any worse than what your brain usually gets up to."

"You're my brother. It's the same as a person's parents. You just don't think about family members like that." Dean shakes himself to physically show the internal shivers and makes his brother laugh even harder.

"You'll get over it." Maybe in his next life.

"I'm scarred for life." Dean shoves the pictures of his brother and the waiter away and actively recalls the picture of Trisha to get Sam and Paul completely out of his head.

They arrive at the motel and park the car. There is silence once more, but this time it's not tinged with the negative emotions from before. Dean gets out of the car and locks it once Sam has climbed out as well. They have the rest of the night off, and Dean, for his part, is looking forward to getting some more sleep in. Tomorrow promises to be another exhausting day, and he hasn't caught up on the lack of sleep from the last hunt yet.

Sam lumbers past him and unlocks the door to their room. Dean follows him inside and finally shrugs out of his leather jacket. The shirt isn't damp anymore but dripping wet. Sometimes he really wishes his car had something like air-conditioning. He drapes the jacket over the foot of his bed and pulls the wet shirt off. When he drops it on the floor, he hears his brother inhale, and knows that Sam is preparing for a tirade about keeping order and not leaving clothes everywhere.

Dean locks himself into the bathroom before his little brother can get started. After getting rid of his jeans and socks, which he dumps into the bathroom sink, he climbs into the shower to get rid of the night's grime.

The hot water feels good, and he even contemplates having dream Trisha join him for a repeat performance of this afternoon's entertainment, but jerking off in the shower feels too much like not being able to get a women to do that for him. He wants the real deal and not his imagination. Whatever Sam's gonna say, Dean will take Trisha's number the next time, and he definitely is going to get lucky tomorrow.

Without the distraction of masturbation, the shower is rather quick, and Dean just washes his body down. He turns off the water and steps out of the shower. There are some puddles on the floor, but besides that, the tiles aren't wet or slippery.

He wraps a large bath towel around his waist and unlocks the door. On his way out of the bathroom, he has to step over his boots he toed off and the way to his bed makes him walk over the contents of his duffle bag that have been emptied onto the floor.

Usually, he would put on at least some boxer briefs, but it's much too hot and he's far too tired to do anything resembling physical work. Exhausted, he lets himself fall back onto the bed, and the moment his head hits the pillow, he can feel his body getting heavier and preparing to fall asleep.

There are the sounds of Sam moving in the room, and from time to time, he can hear the addition of low talking. The first time it has to be the shoes, and the second time, Dean thinks he can hear the word 'jeans' somewhere in the mumbling.

"Dude, I told you not to do that!" Ah, the socks. A smile spreads over his face, and Dean feels warm and happy all of a sudden. This is what domestic bliss is like. "They stink, and they're full of dirt. You carried half of the swamp with you in these socks."

He turns onto his stomach and buries his face into the lumpy pillow. At times like these, Dean feels like everything is right with the world. For a couple of minutes, he listens to his little brother bitching in the bathroom about Dean being messy, but then everything around him is tuned out and he falls asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

When Dean wakes up the next morning, there are two things he notices. Number one, his ass is bare and there's a draft that breezes over it. Number two, the TV is on and the show he can hear sounds suspiciously like the Gilmore Girls. Only Sam would watch something so girly that early in the morning.

He continues to lie like that for a couple of more minutes until he feels at least somewhat awake before turning onto his back and stretching. He can feel his tired muscles strain against the movement. Man, this feels incredible. Now if there was someone taking care of his morning wood as well, his world would be perfect.

The change in temperature during the night comes as a welcome surprise, and Dean hopes that today will be cooler than yesterday. He could do without having to shower every five minutes.

Dean yawns and looks over at his brother who, apparently, is totally engrossed in the show on screen. Sam's floppy hair looks like a bird's nest and there are still slight pillow creases on his cheek. His little brother sits against the headrest with the blankets tangled around his feet, munching those crappy wholesome cereals he bought yesterday.

"Man, how can you eat that shit without anything else? They taste like sawdust." Dean's voice is still a little croaky, but he manages to get his point across. He absolutely hates it when Sam is that cheerful in the morning. This degree of happiness is usually only reserved for kids on Christmas morning.

"I like them, and they're healthy. With all the junk we're always eating, we ought to eat something wholesome once in a while." His baby brother's eyes never leave the TV screen, and he smiles at something that happens in the show.

"Uh huh." 'Nuff said. He sits up as well and takes a look at the oh-so-interesting TV show. Yup, Gilmore Girls it is. A tall guy with floppy hair goes on a date with some young chick with huge blue eyes, and Dean can't help but think that the actor looks a lot like Sam.

Dean gets up and heads for the bathroom. He really needs to take a piss, and he wants to get rid of the dirty sock that is currently his mouth. He scratches his stomach and closes the bathroom door behind him. There are no socks socks in the sink anymore, but his brother stuffed them into his boots and threw them together with Dean's jeans under the sink. Thanks, little brother.

He takes care of his business and does a quick wash up of his face and hands. There are two brand new toothbrushes, all in plastic foil, lying on the shelf beneath the small mirror. Dean unpacks one of them and starts brushing his teeth.

Toothbrush in his mouth, he gets out of the bathroom and walks over to the pile of clean but rumpled clothes next to his bed. He continues brushing his teeth with one hand while digging through the pile with the other. The jeans under the sink are still kind of okay, if somewhat muddy, but there's no way he's going to wear the sweaty shirt from last night a second time.

There are no clean shirts in the pile, so he walks to his brother's neatly packed duffle bag and starts looking for something to wear there.

"Dude, those are my clothes!"

Dean takes the toothbrush out of his mouth and points it at his brother. "My clothes are dirty and I need a shirt."

"How about you wash some of your shirts for a change?" What a surprise, Sam is getting bitchy again. Has his little brother not heard about sharing stuff? Dean's going to take care of the laundry today. No need to get into a hissy fit over something like clean shirts.

He picks one of the neatly folded shirts and pulls it over his head, smudging some toothpaste into the collar. The difference in height and build makes the shirt look rather long on him but it's better than something dirty or sweaty, and once he has some clean stuff of his own, he can change again.

Dean returns to the bathroom and spits the mouthful of toothpaste foam out and rinses his mouth. Bending down, he grabs the jeans and puts them on. There are some mud sprinkles on the hem of them, but it's not worth mentioning. One last look into the mirror, and he's finished.

The boots he leaves in the bathroom, because he's not interested in starting to sweat again.

An angry growl from his stomach reminds him that there's food to be eaten in the morning. Dean thinks about going to the diner, but he remembers the food he bought for the stake out yesterday. Since the food he's on the table anymore, and since his little brother is a boy scout, the most likely place to find yesterday's purchases is the small mini-bar fridge.

The thought of packaged sandwiches he's really something that excites him too much, though. He totally could go for some ham and eggs, buttered toast, freshly squeezed orange juice, and the blackest cup of coffee that has ever been brewed.

Sam is still engrossed in his show and continues to stuff his face with the sawdust stuff. No thanks. No way he's going to eat the dry cereals. Not without any milk to wash the shit down.

"I think I'm gonna get breakfast at the diner, are you gonna come with me or what?"

"No, I'll eat some more of the cereals and do some more research. But you could take your dirty clothes with you and clean them yourself for a change." Bitch, bitch, bitchety-bitch. Nobody likes a nag, Sam.

"Man, you're getting on my nerves." He takes the duffle bag and turns it over, spilling the rest of the clothes and stuff on the floor. The next minutes he spends (change word order: "He spends the next minutes") sorting through everything and stuffing the dirty clothes back into the bag. At the end, the socks from the bathroom are added, and off he goes.

In passing, he grabs his wallet, the keys, and his leather jacket. Without another word to Sam, he leaves the room and carries his bag over to the Impala. Usually, he would dump everything into the trunk, but his brother's not with him on this one, so he just places the bag and the jacket on the passenger seat.

The air in the car is humid and much hotter than outside, and he rolls the window down to let some fresh air in. He backs up and leaves the parking lot in the direction of the diner. Since the only Laundromat he knows of is the one with the Hoodoo shop in the back, he heads there. Arriving at the end of the small back street, he parks the car.

Getting out of the car, Dean grabs the duffle bag and throws the door shut. Great, there are no lights on. Of course, when he wants to wash his clothes, the stupid Laundromat is closed. A movement behind the glass display catches his eyes, though, and he decides to check when they're opening up again.

He walks down the back street to the shop front and peers into the interior of the room inside. Everything is dark, and the machines that were busy and whirring last evening are quiet and lifeless this morning. Of course, there's no sign at the door with the opening hours. Why does this actually surprise him?

He can't help but look at the stairs in the back that lead to the Hoodoo supermarket. The doorway is pitch black, and Dean feels the same feeling creep up on him like he had felt in the presence of the Hoodoo doctor.

He absolutely hates this magic stuff. There's no logic behind it, and the scariest thing about it is that it's done by humans who are, in his opinion, the most irrational and most dangerous beings on the planet. Give him a spirit or a vampire or even a demon any day, no problem. Humans, though, their reasoning and motivation, are, most of the time, totally fucked up and make no sense.

Of course, he knows some magic as well, just not the fancy stuff. If need demands it, he can do pretty nasty stuff too, but that needs time and preparation. Unlike Sam, he doesn't know the newest in-style spells and incantations or whatever else there is going on in the magic scene.

"We open in five minutes." The strange voice makes Dean's head whip around, and he comes face-to-face with a tall, dark-skinned guy. He can feel his heartbeat in his throat, and Dean takes a deep breath. Damn, that's too much before his first cup of coffee.

"Okay. I just wanted to check out your opening hours." Okay, so there are two things he hates. Magic and people who walk so silently that they can sneak up on you. It's just not natural that a person can move so quietly.

So what is he going to do now? Stay here and wait. Maybe watch the sneaking guy open shop. Or should he go for breakfast before washing his clothes. (change to a question mark) Decisions, decisions.

"You were here yesterday. You visited Mama Makeba." Huh? Yeah, right, the Hoodoo lady. So, the local Hoodoo doctor is called Mama Makeba.

"Yeah, I was just in need of some information, but today I'm here strictly on business. Lots of clothes to wash." He pats his duffle bag and forces a smile onto his face. If this was some hot chick, no problem, but this freaky guy gives him the eye as if he had been doing something nasty.

"Come back later. We can wash the clothes for you." Yeah, right. Like he was going to leave his stuff here with these weirdoes. They might celebrate some Hoodoo ceremony with it or some other thing.

He nods at the guy and turns back to the Impala. The pace he walks is faster than he wants to admit, and it feels like he's running from the stupid Laundromat and its shop boy. It's just that he really doesn't feel too comfortable in the presence of those magic disciples.

He opens the door on the passenger side and tosses the duffle bag in. Then he walks over to his door and gets into the car. Okay, so it will be food first and fresh clothes later. To be completely honest, he prefers some fortification before braving the Hoodoo Laundromat.

There are more cars in front of the diner than yesterday, but he finds a free space quickly. He gets out of the car and heads into the restaurant. Yesterday's table is occupied, so he picks one of the high chairs at the counter. It's a nice surprise to find Trisha behind the bar. The day is definitely looking up now.

Parked on the chair, he watches the redheaded waitress for a while before she stops in front of him. Dean switches on his brightest smile and leans closer to her. Maybe today will be a better day, and he can finally have Trisha take care of him.

"Well, hello." Strange. The tone is very friendly. But that's the problem. It's friendly, but not flirty like it was yesterday. It makes no sense. If she's pissed she ought to be unfriendly, but if she isn't pissed, why doesn't she continue what they started yesterday?

"Hello to you. I'll have a breakfast with a cup of very strong coffee." Well, it couldn't hurt to push some more, and Dean cranks his charm up another notch.

"Sure, I'll bring over the coffee in a sec." And off she goes again. Once more, the smile hasn't merited him a reaction from Trisha, and he starts to wonder what happened to the redhead that was all over him yesterday.

It's as if there's a big conspiracy to keep him from getting any. First, Sam and his prudish nagging, and today, Trisha with her odd behaviour. What's wrong with everyone? This is Dean Winchester, man of a hundred women. Well, maybe not that many, but still, there ought to be some kind of reaction from the waitress.

"Here's your coffee." It's not Trisha who sets the cup down in front of him, but some barely of age brunette girl. She doesn't have the nice breasts the redhead has, but her grey eyes are nice enough, and Dean awards her with this come-hither smile. He's got to test his mojo to see if it's still working.

His flirting is successful when a shy giggle escapes the young waitress. She blushes furiously and hurries back to Trisha, who watched the whole interaction while preparing some more coffees for the breakfast crowd.

What the…? The moment Trisha and teenage waitress work together on the espresso machine, the redhead drags the younger woman a little further down he counter and starts to talk a mile a minute with her. There's a lot of gesturing and talking, and somewhere in between, she points in Dean's direction. The end result is that teenage waitress looks at him with big sad cow eyes and focuses all her attention on the espresso machine.

Pissed off, Dean watches the red head pick up a plate of scrambled eggs and ham and a glass of orange juice. She carries it over to him and sets it down on the counter.

"Here you are." There's a short glimpse over to the brunette waitress and Trisha looks at him. What the heck is going on here? "I'm sorry about Tallulah's behaviour just before, and I want to apologize for the way I behaved yesterday. That was totally uncalled for. I just didn't know you were already off the market."

"Uh," Great, how eloquent. "Um, I'm afraid I can't follow you."

"It's just that Paul told me about it last night, and now I can't help but feel so stupid for acting like I did. I just didn't know."

"You didn't know what?" What is she talking about? Dean is having really a hard time trying to figure out what's going on here.

"Well, that other guy. Your boyfriend." It makes perfect sense now why he was so pissed with my flirting with you. I must have looked like such a fool. Anyway, Paul told me yesterday that you're together with the tall guy, and now I want to apologize for hitting on you."

"Uh, okay." There's really nothing else he can think of right now that would be the appropriate answer. Why the heck had blonde Paul told redheaded Trisha that Dean was Sam's bitch?

Dumbfounded, he watches the waitress leave and wonders how all of this came about. Sam is the poof, not him. And why is it that everywhere they go, people think he's got the hots for his dorky brother? Honestly, there's just no way he will even think about Sam having sex, less so having it with him.

It's not like his little brother is ugly. Sammy is actually kind of good-looking in a very masculine way. He's tall and built, and he has these puppy dog eyes that women love. And never forget the dimples, of course. Where Dean's smile is just blindingly beautiful – in his own humble opinion – Sam's smile makes you want to smile and laugh with him.

The thing is, beside the brother thing, of course, Sam's a guy. Dean has never thought men to be attractive. Good-looking, sweet on the eye in the rarest of cases, but hot or sexy? Nope, never. Of course, he's aware that gay guys and even bisexual guys get a kick out of getting their rocks off with another guy, but Dean just doesn't see the appeal of it.

Because, come on, they have a dick, no pussy, and, worst of all, no breasts. Their angles are all off and their voices are too low. Not to mention the beards. It just makes no sense to him why his little brother gets turned on by muscles. Best to ask him that back at the motel.

Dean eats his food and sips from the orange juice, which he's freshly squeezed, and the coffee. All the while, he forces the thoughts of Sam and some random dude, who alternates between blonde Paul and a very distorted version of Dean, getting it on out of his head.

He's actually kind of happy when he's finished with his breakfast, and he puts the money next to his plate and climbs down from the chair.

The temperature outside is starting to rise again, and Dean shrugs out of his jacket to keep his shirt as clean as possible. There's nothing he can wear if it's dirty, and he doesn't want to wear a sweaty shirt that sticks to his body. No thanks.

He unlocks the car and gets in. On the drive back to the Laundromat, he keeps on wondering what brought this strange development about and if there's maybe something wrong with the way he and his brother behave. Because, come on, if everybody thinks they're gay, there has to be something they do that makes people believe that it's true. It's just that he's not aware of what is wrong with his behaviour.

He doesn't find the answer to the question before he arrives at the Laundromat again. Dean parks the car and grabs his bag from the passenger seat. There's a young African-American woman outside the shop washing the glass front. Now that's more to his liking. He'll pick the young woman over the weird guy any day. She looks far better, and Dean knows that he can deal with a good-looking woman much better than with some scary Hoodoo hobo.

The whirring sound of the washing machines sets the background of the shop. Man, this housework stuff is way out of his field of duty. It's the stuff Sam usually does, but recently, his little brother has developed this calculating streak where he refuses to do all the work for Dean.

That sucks big time, because Dean has been taking care of his laundry for a long time, but Sammy is better with it. Dean doesn't know what his little brother does differently, but he makes the clothes softer and they smell better. Not to forget that there are far less clothes that shrink or change colour in the process of being cleaned.

The guy he met in the morning is nowhere around, and Dean puts the duffle bag down in front of his chosen washing machine. It's the one farthest away from the staircase in the back, because no way does he want an encounter of the Hoodoo kind this early in the morning.

Okay, let's get done with the stupid cleaning stuff. He unzips the bag and starts stuffing the clothes into the washer drum.

"Um, aren't you going to wash them separately?" Well, hello. The cute blonde who is currently folding her laundry into her bag is looking at him curiously. Now, this is company he can very well stomach at this time of the day.

"Why should I wash each piece separately?" She has some strange ideas about washing though. Dean wants to get done with the deed and not stay here until the day he dies. Considering his way of living, that day might actually be closer than anticipated.

His question makes the hot girl giggle. "No, you have to wash dark, white, and coloured clothes separately. Otherwise they'll be washed out. It might be a good idea to check the temperature on the clothes' tags as well, just in case you don't want anything to get shrunk or ruined."

Dean takes a closer look at the tag of the shirt in his hand and sees the different symbols and notes on it. Okay, that would explain why he's had some rather nasty accidents when doing the laundry. Of course his little brother knew all that. Laundry-trained by his girlfriend, most likely.

"I'll just do that. Thanks." He pulls the clothes back out and starts sorting. He notices that helpful Blondie watches him while finishing folding her clothes. "I'm Dean, by the way."

"My name is Cindy." She takes his offered hand and shakes it. Cindy? Hm, it would be really strange if this was actually the Cindy they are planning to visit today.

"Sorry, but I can't help asking. Are you a friend of Claire's, Claire Debonnet?"

"Yes, I was a college friend of Neil's. You know, her boyfriend who disappeared two weeks ago." The lack of dismay surprises Dean. If Neil was her friend, why is she cool with his disappearance? Maybe they weren't as good of friends as they had assumed.

"Yea, I heard about that. Nasty business, huh? Disappearing like that. It's very strange." He stuffs the jeans into the machine together with the dark shirts and t-shirts and fills a second machine with the light laundry. "The police say that he was drunk and fell into the water where he drowned. I think it's strange, though, that they weren't able to find his body yet."

Cindy sets her bag of clothes aside and climbs onto Dean's washing machine after he's turned it on. She flings strands of her blonde hair over her shoulder and leans back on her hands. "Neil wasn't drunk that night, and about the other stupid story that an alligator ate him, it's just as much crap as the drunk thing. I was there that night, and I was the first one to arrive at the scene when Claire screamed. There was no sign of any attacks or of him being dragged of."

"So, what do you think happened?" That's the big question. What happened on that night, and why do all the clues and hints they are able to find not make any sense?

"I don't know what happened. If there hadn't been Neil's car and his wallet in the water, I would have said he wasn't there to begin with. The police looked for any traces or signs of a struggle, but the only thing they found in the end were shoeprints that led into the water. And even they were kind of useless since the water made them useless." The way her shoulders are pushed back presents her breasts nicely, and Dean suddenly feels the need to get to know Cindy a little better.

"What about the ghost Claire saw?" Ah, this question makes her uncomfortable. She slides to the front of the washing machine and puts her hands in her lap, her shoulders are bowed. The topic he's something she likes to talk about, apparently.

"I talked to Claire on the phone last night. She told me that a guy visited her whose girlfriend disappeared just like Neil. Are you the guy she was talking about?" So, Claire and Cindy are really good friends. But why was it so important for the girlfriend to tell Cindy about Dean's visit?

"Yeah, I visited her yesterday. She tell you what we talked about?" This talk might actually be of use. Besides the blonde being hot and turning Dean on. Maybe Cindy knows something or saw something that might help them with the hunt.

"She said that your girlfriend disappeared very much like Neil and that you had the same problems Claire has, nobody believed you. Did you ever find out what happened to her?" Okay, so we need some more reassurance that it's okay to talk about crazy stuff. Right. He can do that.

Dean sits down on one of the chairs opposite the washing machines and is quickly joined by Cindy, who climbs down from her seat. She takes a look around the shop as if checking that nobody can listen in and then leans closer. Interesting.

"Was your girlfriend attacked by a ghost?" The 'as well' is in the air but not said. So Cindy saw the spirit of the girl?

"Well, it wasn't so much a ghost than a vengeful spirit." That's exactly the look he always gets when he starts to elaborate somewhat on the finer points of the supernatural. The slightly confused and somewhat befuddled expression is exactly what he expected.

"Um, what's a vengeful spirit? Isn't it also a ghost?"

Okay, Ghosts and Spirits 101. Dean takes a deep breath and starts with the explaining. "Generally speaking, the word ghost describes a lot of different things, ranging from the soul of a dead person to a poltergeist, or it's sometimes even used for a demon. Ghosts can be harmless, some help people, but most of them are dangerous. A vengeful spirit describes the spirit or soul of a deceased person, but it's always a spirit that has become aggressive and harms, often kills, people."

"Wow." Exactly. There's more where that came from, but to explain all of it would be too much. It's enough that she knows what they're talking about here, and from everything Dean knows, it's definitely a vengeful spirit.

"So, my question to you is, have you seen the spirit as well? Is there anything you can tell me that might be of help, because with spirits it never stays at one person. There will be more disappearances, more people getting hurt. Everything that you remember, that comes to your mind, helps." It's not like he expects to make the discovery that solves everything and ends the hunt, but he knows from experience that different people focus on different things and that Cindy most likely noticed some things the girlfriend missed, and that might give them something to work with.

Okay, so we're not that sure about the spirit thing yet. The girl bites her lips as she most likely contemplates how to answer Dean's question. It's a difficult decision to make. If she says yes, she has to admit to him and to herself that there are things out there that she knows nothing about. If she says no, more people might get hurt. In the case that there really is something like spirits and other stuff he explained.

Maybe she needs some help with the answer? "Listen, I won't tell anybody else what you tell me. It's just between you and me." And Sam, of course, but there's no need to tell her that his little brother will be told what she says to Dean.

Another scan of the rest of the clientele, and she presses her rather impressive chest against Dean's side. "I was the first to arrive. Um, it was kinda weird. Claire arrived at the party without Neil and asked for him. She said that he went on without her because she was afraid and wanted to go back home." She almost murmurs the words to make sure that only Dean can hear her.

"Neil wasn't there, though. I suggested that he was taking a leak and had Claire help me with the food trays. She was worried about her boyfriend, though, so I offered to help her look for him in the crowd. She must have decided to look outside again, because the next time I saw her was when I heard her screaming and I ran to find her."

"She was screaming so loud you could hear it over the music, and that means something. It sounded like someone was trying to kill her. I was nearest to the exit of the clearing, so I saw her first in the water. She was standing there, shaking and pale as a sheet. And in front of her was…" At this she stops her tale, and it doesn't look like she's about to continue any time soon.

So far Dean hasn't learned anything new, though, so he has to push a little to dig for something new that they haven't read in the newspaper reports and internet recaptures. "It was the dead girl, right? You saw her too.

The nod is almost non-existent, but it's there. Good. They have another eye-witness. He feels like a bloodhound that has found a scent, and he's determined to get some more info on the happenings of October the 31st.

"I need you to tell me in detail what you saw. Even stuff that you think is embarrassing or even unimportant, I want to know about it." Come on! Your friend got offed by the dead girl, and your other friend is close to losing it. Do something useful and talk about what you saw.

Dean doesn't say it, though, because he sees how hard it is for Cindy to talk about the incident. She's at the thin red line between denial and acceptance. She knows that she saw something that wasn't normal, but she still refuses to admit it.

"Well…um, I," she mumbles. It's hard to understand what she's saying and it's frustrating having to beg her for every word. She can help her friend, one of the two, at least, for god's sake.

"Please, describe to me exactly what you saw on that night." Where is Sammy with his patented puppy dog look and his weepy emo act? His little brother is much better with making people open up to him and getting them to talk. Put Sam in one room with twenty paranoid people, and you can be sure that after ten minutes they're begging him to let them tell him about their deepest fears and secrets. Dean isn't half as good at stuff like that.

"I didn't see anything out of the ordinary at first, but when I ran closer, I noticed that Claire wasn't alone. I thought that the other person was the one that attacked her, so I grabbed a branch that was lying on the ground and went to help her."

Another pause, but she continues. "The girl, she looked so strange. Her skin color was all green-grey and there were spots where her bones and skin were visible. Worst of all were her eyes. They were white, like milky glass."

Finally. It was hard, but finally, she's talking. Nothing new so far, but at least there's someone else that might have seen something of importance. "What did she do? Did she touch any of you, hurt you? Say something?"

"No, she was just standing there and looking at us. She didn't do anything." The blonde girl is trembling now, and Dean can feel the shivers against his shoulder and arm. "I told her to go away and when she didn't, I asked what she wanted from us, told her to leave us alone. She only looked out over the water. When the others were closing in, she just disappeared."

Nothing. Again there's nothing of use. Why is it that spirits aren't like those stupid movie villains who reveal their whole cunning plan so that the hero — in this case, Dean and Sam — can prevent it from happening. No, they do nothing of the sort. Fucking assholes, that's what they are.

Cindy with the nice boobs does something that looks and feels suspiciously like cuddling. Um, no. Cuddling is not in his repertoire. Sammy is the cuddler, Dean is the tough and cool sex machine. There's no way he does something girly and gay like cuddle.

He tries to sit up straighter to get out of her space, but she's clinging to his arm now. Okay, that is not what he signed up for. The second time, he makes her let go and gets up. Apparently more distance between them is needed.

"Thanks for your help. Please tell Claire that I'm doing my best to help her and Neil."

"Is Neil alright? Is he still alive?" Bad question, because you really do not want to know the answer to it.

"He still could be, but I need to do more research about that to tell you anything more precise." And he has to talk with Sam about it, of course. Maybe his little brother had been more successful with his research, and, just maybe, he'll have the solution to everything. Yeah, right.

"Thank you, for listening without saying we're crazy." You're welcome. And if you knew only half the things I know, you wouldn't think about being crazy. There's worse out there than the spirit of a dead girl. Much worse.

"I know what it's like to be in your place. Don't worry, I'll take care of this." What's with all this snuggling? Dean pats her on the back a little awkwardly and steps back. Now, there, that ought to be enough. A smile as encouragement, and off you go.

Cindy, who still is hot but much too clingy, smiles weakly back at him, and then grabs her bag of clothes and leaves without a look back. Welcome to the world of the Supernatural. It's always the same with general population. They refuse to believe what they see, and once they admit to themselves that there's more to the world they're living in than what they learn about in school, they behave as if they're condemned to death.

Dean tries to imagine what life is like without the hunting, and even without knowing that there are things out there that go bump in the night. He can't do it. He can't even remember what it was like back when his mother was still alive and none of their family had known what was to coming The innocence and ignorance he can't remember anymore.

It's a curse, sometimes, to know so much that a normal person has no need to know. But it's not only a curse. There are times when he feels the pressure not to fail weighing heavy on him. Even heavier than the pressure of performing well is the pressure to live up to their father's expectations, and most important of all, the pressure to protect his little brother.

There are times when it seems an impossible task to achieve, and he wonders if there will come a time when they look back on today and laugh about their worries and fears. Cause really, demons that are hunting you and trying to off you at every turn, that's funny as hell, right?

Dean watches his clothes tumble around in the washing machine while thinking about his life. He hates getting all thoughtful like that. It's not like he doesn't like to think, but the thing is that it's fucking depressing to realize that you've spent all your life road tripping and hunting for supernatural creatures. There are almost no friends, and nobody will ever thank you or pay your for what you do.

Quite the opposite, in fact. He has to erase all of his tracks because the FBI is on his trail and is trying to lock him away, if he's lucky. That's life.

When he offered Sam a break to do something other than hunting, he had been afraid of stopping his job, though. He can't see himself working somewhere at an office or at some store to get his underpaid wages and live in some house with his brother, who most likely would finish his studies and then start his life as a famous lawyer. Dean doesn't fit in with the all the other Joe and Jane Public. He is one of a kind and fits no norms.

But for Sam, he would have done it. He would have given up his life and started everything over. Somewhere where the stupid yellow-eyed fucker couldn't get to Sammy. There's nothing he wouldn't do for his little brother. Nothing.

That's why his brother's comment had hurt. It's true that Dean is no philosopher, and he doesn't do intellectual talks and stuff like that. But he cares. A lot. He might not always realize and notice everything right away, but he cares none the less. And where Sam is concerned, he cares a whole fucking lot more than with anybody else.

Dean thought that his baby brother was aware of his loyalty and his love, but apparently not. Even if Dean he's of the same opinion as his brother and even if he's pissed off with his brother, there's no way he would abandon him.

Actually, it's him who's being abandoned all the time. First his mother, then Sam, then his father, and he's scared that Sam will leave him for good. He can't go on without his brother, and there's no way he will. He'd rather die.

The machine is drying the clothes now, and Dean checks the second one as well. Almost finished. Work like this, where you're sitting around and waiting, brings out the worst in him. What with all the worrying and thinking about stuff that you can't change anyway.

There's a movement at the back of the Laundromat, and the dark guy from this morning steps out of the darkness of the stairway that leads to Mama Amoeba's Hoodoo store. The guy just gives him the creeps. It's not only the magic thing. There's something else about the guy.

He watches him from the corner of his eyes, and he's rather relieved when the machines are finished. Stuffing the clothes back into his bag, Dean grabs his stuff and makes for the exit. No way he's gonna stay in one Laundromat with Mr. Super creep.

When he leaves the shop, he can almost feel the eyes that are watching him. It sends shivers down his spine. Dean hurries up and gets into the Impala with the duffle bag full of clothes still in his hand. He dumps it on the passenger seat and starts the car. The sooner he gets away, the better.

There's no traffic worth mentioning on the streets, but all the traffic lights are apparently out to get him. It's the Hoodoo guy's doing for sure. Every time he comes to an intersection, he's got a red light. Every fucking time. It seems to him like it's taking him ages to get back to the motel.

He parks the car in front of their door and gets out of it. It's much too hot outside again, and Dean wonders if he should just strip naked and forget about the stupid hot clothes. Being naked can be a lot of fun, but being naked in broad daylight does not only results in people looking at you funny, but also results in a fine and maybe even getting arrested for public indecency. So, no stripping off clothes.

Dean walks to the other side of the car and gets his bag. Slinging it over one shoulder, he locks the Impala and unlocks their Motel room. He finds Sam sitting at the desk with his laptop, and there's a half-eaten cheese and ham sandwich lying next to his brother's baby.

"I've got news," they say in unison. Okay, maybe his brother has the solution to their problem.

"You first, mine can wait that long." He drops the duffle bag and the pile of clean clothes next to his bed and shrugs out of his jacket. Hanging it over the back of the chair next to his brother, he plops down on it and stretches.

"I did some research on the girl, but as expected, there wasn't anything I could find. But I talked to Bobby on the phone, and we found a way to get rid of the girl without having to find the bones." Great, why didn't they find out about this earlier? A lot of searching for graves and digging up bones could have been avoided.

"What's the catch?" Because, honestly, there's got to be one. No freaking way it's easy like that. Not with the luck they always have with their hunts.

"Well." Here we go. "The thing is, the ritual we found doesn't destroy the spirit, but it enables you to help it pass on. Actually, you have to persuade it to leave of it's own will."

A snort escapes him when he tries to keep from laughing. "Like that's ever gonna happen. Sure, we go to the spirit and ask if it would be so kind as to pass on and leave, and of course it's gonna do that, because it's a nice and kind thing."

"Dean..."

"Come on Sam, there's gotta be more we can do than ask a murderous dead girl to do us the favour to disappear." There's this annoyed look in his brother's eyes again, but come on, this idea is just beyond stupid. If it was that easy, nobody would ever have troubles with vengeful spirits. "Next, we're gonna ask demons to stop possessing people and return to hell. And of course they're gonna do it, because deep, deep in their black hearts, they're loving and kind and like little kittens and puppies."

"Why am I not surprised with your reaction?" Yeah, why? Because you're my baby brother who has known me since forever.

"The idea just plain sucks." And he's not going to change his mind about it. "It's evil and it kills, it has to be destroyed."

"I killed someone as well, and there's a high probability that I'm going turn evil in the future. Even dad warned you about that. But you didn't kill me even though I asked you to, and you promised me you would." Not this topic again. Dean doesn't want to hear anything about Sam dying, even less about him having to kill his baby brother. He's not going to do it. Fuck their Father and Sam.

"Fuck you! I told you before, it's not gonna happen. I am not going to kill you. I will protect you if it's the last thing I do." Why is it that his brother won't accept that? "Besides, you were possessed and aren't responsible for what that Meg bitch did while inhabiting your body. You couldn't control your actions."

"I was aware of what was going on. The whole time I was inside my body like a bystander, watching while she killed a person. I should have been able to do something to stop her." What is it with his brother? There's no way he could have prevented what happened, and Dean won't allow Sam to beat himself up about it, either.

"Who do you think you are. Fucking Superman? You might have some creepy ass psychic nightmare visions, but that doesn't make you perfect. You're human, and humans make mistakes. You're not stronger than a demon." Dean is getting angrier with every word, and he's up and pacing the room. It's a stupid habit of his. "And I won't allow you to give up on yourself because of something that might or might not happen. You do not have the right to take the easy way out. If I have to live with the crap that is our life, then you will fucking do the same."

By the time he started shouting at his little brother, he had stopped pacing, and now he's standing in the middle of the hotel room, glaring at Sam. "How dare you decide to get yourself killed and leave me alone with all this shit? Does anyone in this fucking family of ours, ever consider me? First dad and his relentless quest to avenge our mom, and now you're on this idiotic crusade to sacrifice yourself for the greater good. What about me?!"

Sam is staring at him, and there's a look of surprise and contrition on his face. Okay, so Dean might have gone a bit overboard, but it's been a long time coming, and there comes a time when everything is just too much. It's not Sam's privilege to bitch about stuff and accuse others. Dean has the same rights his baby brother has.

"Dean..." Of course, there's nothing that he can say to that. It's not pleasant to get a taste of your own medicine. "Why didn't you ever say anything about all of this?"

Dude, is his brother retarded or what? "Why would I say something like that? I'm not a girl that wants to get more attention all the time. Besides, you're my brother, you're supposed to know stuff like that about me."

"How can I know what you think if you never say anything..." This incites him further.

"What the fuck? I told you that I wanted us to take a break, that I don't want to go on like nothing happened and you're not in the danger of turning into the devil incarnate. You just told me to fuck off, and that you weren't interested." It's not his fault that his brother's just not listening to what he says.

"Dude, I thought you wanted to take a break because you wanted to get me away from the demon and the other psychic kids." Of course he wants to get Sam away from the yellow-eyed asshole, but knowing his brother is safe equals a break for Dean.

He turns away from Sam and his hazel puppy eyes and walks over to his bed, where he sits down. He feels so tired, and this fucking case where nothing makes sense and every turn ends in a dead end doesn't really help him any. Dean wishes that he could lie down and sleep for a whole month, but upon waking up, nothing would have changed. He doesn't get to escape from the madness that is his life.

"Dean, I'm sorry. I didn't know that it meant so much to you, but you have to understand that it's important for me to find out what's going on and why the things that happened that did happened. I can't just hide somewhere, go on a holiday, and ignore the impending doom." Of course he has to understand. Why shouldn't he?

Dean bends down and grabs his duffle bag. He sets it on the bed next to him and unzips it. Taking out the freshly done laundry, he starts folding the clothes, and then picks the other clean jeans and stuff up from the floor to fold them up as well.

"Dean." There is no reaction from him. He refuses to talk about the topic anymore. He said his piece, and his brother just told him that it's important that they do what Sam wants to do. What is there to say to that? Dean doesn't want to fight about it; there's been enough quarrelling in the last days to last him for a while.

"Dean, I...maybe we can talk about all of this after this hunt is finished?" Sure. Later.

The packed bag is dumped on the floor, and Dean sits there on the bed, staring at it. He just can't look at his brother right now. "I met Cindy, that friend of the victim that we wanted to talk to, at the Laundromat when I washed my clothes."

Work distracts him and makes him think about something different.

"What did she say? Was there anything of use?" Thank you, little brother. But it's not really a surprise that talking about a hunt is more agreeable to Sam than listening to Dean, and, compromise by taking a step in Dean's direction.

"She saw the ghost as well, but her description of what happened is the same as the girlfriend's. She's a dead end, like everyone else in this case."

There's the sound of the laptop being closed, and seconds later, there are feet next to the duffle bag. Dean's eyes follow long legs up to his brother's face. "I promise we'll talk about it later on."

"Sure." He nods and gets up from the bed. The movement brings him close to Sam, and a hand on his arm stops him from stepping away. Dean looks at his brother questioningly.

"Dean, I...I do care about what you said. I promise that I'll slow down a bit and we can even take a short break after this case if you want us to." His brother doesn't let go of his arm. Quite the opposite; his hold tightens, and suddenly Dean is pulled into an tight embrace.

He can feel the softness of Sam's hair against cheek, and his brother's breath ghosts lightly over his neck. The feeling causes a strange shiver down his back, and Dean realizes, shocked, that the closeness of his baby brother calls forth strange feelings, feelings Dean doesn't want to identify.

He tries to push away from Sam, but his brother tightens the embrace until they're completely pressed against each other.

"Sammy..." he protests, but at the same time, he feels his body relax against the form of his little brother. It feels kind of good to be held, but it's kind of gay too, right? Cause two guys do not hug like that.

"I promise you, Dean, that once this hunt is over, we'll have some time to recharge our batteries, and we'll come up with a way to make sure both of us survive." He can't even begin to describe how much he wants that. He wants to stay with his brother forever and protect him to make sure that Sammy lives a thousand years, if not more.

"Let's check out the library again, because there has to be something else we can do other than sweet talk the dead girl." His words are almost completely swallowed by his brother's chest. Dean claps him on the back, in a completely non-gay way, of course, and starts to detangle himself from Sam's embrace.

The whole situation is kind of weird, bordering on awkward. What with all the emotional admissions and the hugging and such. Better to get working on the dead girl and Mr. Houdini and think about the strange stuff at some undefined time in the future.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam lets go of him, and Dean makes sure to get some distance between them. He grabs the keys from the table and the jacket from the chair and walks over to the door. There's an odd look on his baby brother's face, but he refuses to think about what it means. He's got enough to think about already, and they're still no closer to finishing their hunt.

"Let's get going. Maybe we can toast the bitch tonight, and then we'll leave this damn swamp with all its mosquitoes and other vermin behind." Damn, he doesn't like the stubborn set to Sammy's jaw. It always means trouble. His little brother can be a stubborn bastard if he wants to.

"We'll talk about it, Dean." Can we go now? What's the point in prolonging it?

"Yeah, sure, we'll talk. Just, let's get some research done on the place and the people." This time, his little brother puts on his sneakers and grabs his cell from the night stand. Finally, off we go.

The weather is killing him. It's actually hotter than it was yesterday, and Dean can feel the sweat running down his back. From the amount of water he loses, there ought to be giant giant-sized puddles everywhere he steps. Annoyed, he takes off the jacket again and throws it onto the back seat.

"What's with the weather? This freaking heat can't be normal." He looks warningly at his brother, who's already preparing to give him a lengthy and most likely boring explanation about the change in weather and temperature due to air pollution or something equally inane.

The air inside the car is twice the temperature of the air outside, and the seats are searing hot, as is the steering wheel. Dean wipes his brow and starts the engine. A yelp warns him when he starts to back out, and Sammy pulls his door closed.

"Dude, I was just getting in. What's your problem?" No idea, and this cluelessness is driving him insane. It's not just the hunt and the constant exhaustion. There's something else going on, something that's lurking, and waiting for the opportune moment to jump him.

Sam keeps quiet for the rest of the drive to the library, and Dean's very grateful for that. No way he's either in the mood or capable to talk about this strange thing that is suddenly there. The thing that he has no explanation for except that he really is fucking exhausted.

When he parks the Impala at the curb in front of the building, Sam turns to him and opens his mouth for something that Dean is sure he really does not want to hear.

"Just, don't." Why is it that topics he doesn't want to talk about are the most interesting things for his little brother? The moment Dean says 'no,' Sam's like a dog with a bone. He digs and digs and digs even deeper.

"Dean, why are you so irrational? First, you want to talk, and when I say no, you're fed up and sulk like a teenager. Then, you get angry, and the next time you accuse me of not caring about you. Now, I promised you that we would take the time to talk about everything later, and you refuse to acknowledge it." Because he's still embarrassed about his outbreak from before, and he's confused because of the things he felt when Sam hugged him. Most of all, he doesn't want to think about all of those things.

"You make me sound like a love-struck , hormonal teenage girl." It's just not like him to act so stupid. Sure, he's done his fair share of stupid stuff, and there's been more than one time when people looked at him strangely because of his actions, but that's stupid, and that's _stupid_.

It's stupid to hunt demons and supernatural creatures and not have some back up in case this career isn't an option any longer. But it's really stupid to get aroused from your dorky little brother hugging you. Well, Sam pressing himself against him like that might have added to the strange reaction, but still, it's Major League stupid.

"If the shoe fits. Just, act rational for once." His little brother is sounding rather bitchy, and Dean looks straight ahead, out of the wind shield. He simply refuses to look his baby brother in the eyes, not with his thoughts circling around the hard on he almost got from his brother. No fucking way.

"The fuck, I am acting perfectly alright, and we already agreed on talking about it later. So stop the inquisition and let's get started with the research. As I already mentioned, the sooner we solve this case, the sooner we can have our heart-to-heart." This time, he doesn't wait for Sam to answer and just climbs out of the car.

The interior of the building is about 50 degrees cooler, and a cold shiver runs down his back where the sweaty shirt clings to it. The wet spots in his armpits feel disgusting, and he wipes the sweat away from his forehead. Fucking weather and humidity.

"Let's get started. What do we look for first?" From the corner of his eyes he sees a geeky teenage girl sorting books into shelves. If the research wasn't so important, Dean would avoid places like this one like the plague. The people working at such a joint always clash with his image.

"I thought we might check out what they have about Hoodoo rituals, since we are here in the heart of Hoodoo country. There ought to be something about it." Okay, instructions that are easy to follow.

"Great, you start to raid the library network, and I'll check out the written publications." With this and a quick pat on his brother's shoulder, Dean starts his exploration of the rows of bookshelves. There are almost no people in here, which is kind of stupid because the temperature outside is much higher than the temperature in the library.

He finds two books that are of more help than all the New Age books that are aimed at the spiritualist crowd. The spoils of his raid are not too fruititous, but he carries them to the computer working stations where Sam's already typing away. On his way past the librarian's desk, Dean notices that the dark haired guy behind it keeps an eye on his little brother. The guy is a little bit younger than Sam, and he wears his longish hair in a braid.

So this is the helpful librarian from yesterday. Hmm. He looks very different from blonde Paul from the diner, but Paul is a gossip who spreads lies, so Dean decides he likes library guy much better. Maybe a little help is needed so Sam will notice the looks he is getting from the guy.

Once he reaches his brother, Dean drops the books heavily onto the table. The resulting thud has everyone around them look up from whatever they're doing and frown disapprovingly at him. Okay, library, silence. Man, those bookworms sure are cranky.

"Dean, this is a library. You're supposed to take care of the books since they're not yours, and you're supposed to keep silent so that the other people aren't disturbed in what they're doing." Yes, mom.

"I just woke them up. Half of them were asleep and drooling into their books anyway. See, I'm making sure that the books don't come to harm." This earns him a snort and a roll of his brother's eyes. Sam goes back to reading the newspaper articles on the screen and Dean sits down, opening the first book.

He keeps a close watch on ponytail guy behind the station and flips through the book. Huh, not a lot of pictures. A short glance at his little brother's face, and he sees Sam's lips move slightly as they mouth the words he's reading. Sometimes his baby brother's such a dork. The concentrated look and the ever-so-slight lip movements make him smile, and he looks down to keep from laughing.

Oh, Sammy. How is it that all the hot babes don't try to eat you with a spoon? Honestly, chicks dig dorky cute guys like Sam if they don't go for the sexy ones like him. It's a shame that his brother is apparently all for wasting his mojo on the male portion of the population. He could score with the babes very nicely.

Dean once more makes sure that the library dude is checking his little brother out. Okay, let it start. Careful to not be overheard, he leans closer to his brother and clears his throat. This gets him Sam's attention rather quickly and efficiently.

"What? You find anything?" Attention captured, now re-direct it to Mr. Ponytail.

"The library guy over there's been checking you out. Maybe you should ask him to help you with the research." Come on Sam, what's with the face? His brother frowns at him, and then gives him a scathing glare before staring back at the screen.

"Dean, could we focus on the research and stop this stupid thing you're doing?" The annoyed and angry tone is no surprise, but still, Dean had hoped for a little more positive reaction to his attempt to hook his brother up with the other guy. Sure, Mr. Ponytail's not going to win any beauty competitions, but he's got the whole alternative geek going for him, and not in a bad way, either.

He squints at the guy and contemplates his looks some more. Maybe his brother goes for the pretty guys? Blonde Paul from the diner was luckier than Mr. Ponytail, so that means that Sam likes prettiness, right?

"Dude, could you stop staring at him like he's some bacteria under a microscope, and do something useful for a change, like research?" The anger and annoyance is gone, but there's still some emo attitude that makes his little brother sound like a whiny teenager.

"He not to your liking?" Maybe Dean ought to look for another Paul. Kind of difficult to find in here.

"He, is not gay." Yeah, sure.

"Uh huh, that's why he's been watching you the whole time." Come on, Sammy, even you ought to notice being checked out. It doesn't happen that rarely.

"Dude, he's not gay."

"You don't know that. I tell you Sammy, he gets all excited about watching you." Library guy leaves his station and helps the geeky chick sort some books into the shelves.

"He's heterosexual." Dean looks back to his brother and frowns.

"Don't tell me you tried to get something going on and he let you down." That would have been awkward. "Believe me, from the looks you're getting, he's regretting yesterday's rejection already."

"No, Dean, I did not try to chat him up, but I saw his girlfriend the last time I was here." Damn, so the poor library guy's still in the closet and pines for Sam in secret.

"Maybe..."

"Leave it Dean, he's not interested and the only reason he's been watching me is that you're sitting here and he's afraid that you'll break something." Not nice, little brother. That's really not nice. "Besides, why do you think that every guy we meet is gay?"

"Not every guy, but Paul from the diner yesterday was, and this guy is as well." It's obvious, the way he...okay, the way he just grabbed geeky chick was not so gay, but the rest.

He watches the girl grab Mr. Ponytail's butt, and they disappear around a corner. Hm, maybe he's bisexual like Sam?

"Dean, just leave it and get back to the research, we've got to get as much information as possible and start with the preparations before evening." With this, his little brother's back to reading the articles, and Dean finally starts to read the books he found in earnest.

There are a lot of explanations and debates about the origin and the nature of Hoodoo in the first book. It's mainly about the history and the image of using magic in Louisiana. The second book is of more interest. That's the obligatory history and definition, of course, but there are recipes and rituals as well.

It's amazing how many spells and rituals there are to get some money or ban a witch from your house. Ghosts? That's something completely different, though. Nothing on how to get rid of vengeful spirits at all.

"Hey, check this out, Sam. I think that oughta do it." He laughs, because, honestly, some people are just dumb. D-U-M-B. Capital letters and all that shit.

"Did you find a ritual that might help us?" His little brother leans over against Dean's shoulder. He stretches his neck to get a better look at what Dean's reading.

"Hold on, I'll read it to you. Okay." He clears his throat before reading. "If you want to banish an unwelcome entity, a ghost, or a spirit, you have to speak directly to the entity, or in the room most affected, and say: 'It's time to leave here; all is well. There's nothing here for you now, you must be gone. Go now, go ~ Complete your passing, go, and with our blessing fare well. Farewell.'"

He pushes the opened book over to his brother. "That's bloody awesome. I think in the future we should stick to this procedure. Let us burn some incense and sing songs." Another laughter escapes him because, seriously, this has got to be a joke.

"It's not a Hoodoo ritual." Great work, Sam.

"Naw, it's a piece of printed out paper that someone stuck into the book. But it's the most helpful thing I've been able to find so far. There's absolutely nothing about ghosts or spirits and how to get rid of them."

Sam scans the piece of paper and the page of the book before handing it back to him.

"Maybe we should try it differently." Oh yes, something new. Maybe something more stupid than asking the spirit nicely to leave on its own? They should try to find the girl's remains instead. That would be more effective. "I think it might be a good idea to consult the Hoodoo doctor you talked to yesterday."

"You want to ask Mama Makeba for help?"

"Mama Makeba?" There's a smile on his little brother's face.

"Yeah, creepy guy at the Laundromat told me her name. Anyway, I really don't like the idea of going back to the Hoodoo Lady and asking her for help." He'd rather not go back there again. Two times is enough, and after his run in with shop boy in the morning, he's even less eager to go there for help with sweet-talking a dead girl.

"But that's nothing else we can do. Asking the spirit to leave worked with Father Gregory, and I'm sure that it can work here as well." How can his brother be so naïve?

"Come on, the priest with delusions of grandeur was a holy man who was pining for his Last Rites, but this is a deranged, dead killer-girl. No way she's gonna pack up and leave just because you give her a pat on the head and asked her nicely." Sam's been in this business for almost all of his life, just like him; why is it, then, that he's still so ready to believe stupid shit like that? He ought to know better. Vengeful spirits aren't nice and they don't want to do you a favour.

"You don't know that. You don't know if she won't leave if she's asked to and you don't know that she's deranged." Come on, Sammy.

"She killed a guy and taunted his girlfriend with the fact that she was too late to save him. No, she's not deranged. Now that I think about it some more, you're right, she's a little angel." And don't give me that look, baby brother, because you ought to know that your idea sucks. I shouldn't have to tell you that.

Sam glares at him, but then he turns back to the computer screen and closes the pages he's been reading. Dean takes that as a sign that they're finished here and that his little brother found even less than him. Okay, so now what?

His brother takes the books, and Dean follows him when he carries them back to the shelves. In passing, he notices Mr. Ponytail and the geeky chick making out in the back of a long row of book shelves. Okay, so library guy isn't gay, but Paul the waiter is, there's no doubt about that.

Dean strolls after his brother to the exit, and they leave the nice air-conditioned building to cook some more in the heat outside. The Impala is waiting for them at the foot of the stairs, shining in the sunlight, and he feels pride looking at his baby. It's the sweetest ride all around the town, and Dean knows it.

The interior of the car is freakishly hot and stuffy, and as soon as they're inside, he rolls the window down to at least get some non-stuffy air in. What now? Hoodoo lady right away?

The growling next to him has Dean turn his head to his brother's gigantic body.

"Hungry?" Another growl answers his question, and Dean turns the key to start the engine. "Wanna go get some food before we brave the Hoodoo head quarter?"

"Yeah, I really could do with some food now. The cereal and half a sandwich in the morning aren't something that lasts you the whole day. How about the diner we ate at yesterday? I liked their food." Um, no, he'd rather not go there so soon after this morning. Besides, if he shows up together with Sam, the stupid rumour will only be intensified.

"Why don't we go to a supermarket and buy something there?" He keeps the Impala idling on the curb, waiting for a decision to be made. Going to a supermarket ought to be better than sitting in a diner where he's already been today's spectacle.

"Because I'm hungry, and unlike you, I didn't get a cooked breakfast in the morning." Oh, Sam's starting to get bitchy, again. A big boy like his baby brother needs a lot of nourishment for his much-too-tall body. And a hungry Sam Winchester is a grumpy and whiny bitch. There's nobody who knows this better than Dean.

"Let's go somewhere else then." He'd even prefer some place for tree-hugging, plant eating vegetarians to Trisha and Paul, the two gossips of the town.

"Dean, what's the matter? Why can't we go to the diner?" Why do you want to go to the diner so desperately? Is Paul waiting for you? Shocked, he notices that the thought of Sam getting serviced, and not necessarily with food, is creating the same weird feelings like the hug. Uh, not good. Definitely not good.

It's odd; ever since he found out that his little brother is at least half gay and since the incident at breakfast, he can't control his reactions towards his baby brother. And that is really sick. Because, Sam is his baby brother. There's no way it's allowed to think anything remotely sexual about your little brother, right?

"Maybe I want to try something different than the diner." He needs to keep his thoughts away from where they're trying to stray.

"Yeah, sure." He shuts the motor off and grips the steering wheel. What is it with his little brother that he has to provoke him? More like, how is he able to provoke Dean with just two words?

"What? Am I not allowed to try something new?" It would be a really nice change if his little brother would just agree with him for once. It's like a rule of nature that as soon as Dean suggests or says something, Sam's got to question it or have a different opinion.

"Dean, you're a creature of habit. You hate trying something new." Okay, that makes him sound rather dull. He's not boring and predictable, he's adventurous and dangerous.

"I'm not a creature of habit." There, that ought to prove his point.

"Sure." Why would Sam think that Dean's not diverse? He has more surprises and excitement than 98% of the rest of the population.

"Prove it!" He wants to know what makes him that dull, and if Sam can't come up with anything, then it shows that his little brother is wrong.

"Okay. Take the car for example." What's wrong with the car? He looks around and searches for something out of the ordinary in his car. He can't find anything. "You're obsessed with the Impala."

"Hey, it's a classic and dad gave it to me." Other people keep photos of their parents, Dean has the car as a keep sake and a piece to remember his family by. It's the most important thing he has except his brother. Sam is the only one who takes precedence over the Impala.

"And you've never driven another car." Why should he? Other cars sucked. "There are also the cassette tapes."

What about them?

"What about my cassette tapes? They're working fine." Just because he's not listening to CDs in his car, he's not a boring person. He's got a portable MP3-player.

"But they're cassette tapes. No one uses them anymore. The same goes for the music you listen to." Okay, enough's enough. He doesn't criticize Sam's crappy taste in music, either. There's no way he let's his brother insult him or the music he likes.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Ever since we came here you're constantly bitching about what I do, who I flirt with, what I like. If you've got a problem, then just tell me and be done with it. This is really starting to piss me off." He starts the car again and pulls out into the traffic. He is in no mood to go anywhere for dinner, and if his little brother wants to go somewhere, he can do so by himself.

"Where are you going now?"

"To the supermarket. I don't want to go to the diner and your bitching made sure that I don't want to go anywhere else either. So the supermarket it is." With that he switches on the tape deck and raises the volume. Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see put-upon look on Sam's face, but he's too angry to care about that.

The drive to the supermarket is silent, except for the speakers blaring ACDC. The parking lot is full of family vans and couples or moms with kids coming and going from the store. He parks the Impala and gets out without a second look at his brother.

Shrugging into his leather jacket, he takes out his sunglasses and puts them on. Only when he hears the sound of Sam closing the door on his side does he lock the car and stride to the entrance of the supermarket. Not even five steps from the car, his little brother has caught up to him and grabs his wrist.

"Wait, Dean." Don't, Sammy. This is not a good time. He tries to free his arm but only ends up being dragged back to the car. His little brother shoves him against the car and keeps on holding his wrist. "What is going on? I'm not acting differently than usual, but you're determined to take everything personally. Why are you so angry all the time? It's not only today or yesterday, but for the last couple of weeks you've been on edge. It's getting worse all the time."

Of course it's getting worse, but it's not only him who's slowly losing it. It's not true that his brother acts the same as he did in the past. Both of them are getting lost in the chaos and tumult that is their lives.

"You're one to talk. After Dad died you were all 'let's share our feelings', but ever since I told you what Dad said to me, you can't stop pushing me away at every turn. It's like you built this wall that keeps me from getting through to you. I try to reach out, you block. I try to talk to you, you turn on me." His words are accompanied by a hard tug to free his hand, and suddenly Sam stumbles forward and falls against him.

His breath gets caught and he holds perfectly still. Please, no. But that's nothing he can do against the shivers that run down his sides as his brother's warm body presses against his front. Why is this happening? As if they aren't having enough problems already. As if Dean hasn't got more than enough to worry about. And now, he's turning into a pervert. A gay pervert, none the less.

This time, when he tries to push his little brother away, Sam takes hold of both wrists and pins them to the car door.

"Dean, I'm sorry that you think that I'm trying to push you away. I don't want to lose you, but things are getting more and more complicated, and it's kinda hard for me to deal with the fact that I'm a walking and talking psychic time bomb. Considering the situation, I think I'm doing remarkably well." The words don't fully register with him since he's much too distracted by trying to will his growing erection away. What's the matter with his libido? This is his baby brother, for Christ's sake.

Starting to panic, he tries once more to free himself and get away to escape this humiliating scene. He has to get away from his brother before Sam notices the state he's in.

"Dean, I'm talking to you." Sammy, get away. Dean steps on his brother's foot hard and twists free when Sam loosens his grip because of the pain. "Ow!"

The time is right to escape into the supermarket, and Dean hurries away from the car and his brother. In the glass of the entrance doors, he can see the reflection of Sam limping after him and catching up rather quickly in spite of his hurting foot.

There's a determined expression on his face, which makes him hurry his pace up another notch. His little brother can be stubborn as a mule sometimes, and it's better to stay away from him when he's like that. Especially when his mouth is set as tight as it is right now.

Following a young couple with their little child into the building, he takes a sharp turn to the left after the entrance and makes it down the canned food aisle. At the canned chilli and soup shelves, Sam finally catches up to him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? You almost broke my foot." At the next step, his brother winces. "Strike that. You broke my foot."

"Suck it up, your foot's alright." Dean turns around the corner and heads for the freezer section and the pre-packaged sandwiches.

He stops in front of the shelves and peruses the selection. There are sandwiches in the motel fridge, but to be honest, he'd rather eat something different. Now, if there was a microwave in the motel he'd just get some TV-dinner and eat that, but there isn't. This sucks.

His little brother comes to a stop next to him and stares at his face. It's not that he can see it since he avoids looking at Sam, but he can feel the eyes resting on him. Come on, Sam, stop acting like this. You make us look like a gay couple fighting.

"My foot's not alright. It fucking hurts. Why did you step on it that hard?" Because I was getting a hard-on from you pinning me against the car. Impala and Sam make a dangerous combination, from what it seems. "No, better yet: why did you step on my foot?"

"You were hurting my back with your holding me like that." Not true, but Sam can't know that. Maybe he can get away with the explanation.

"Sorry, but that's still no reason to stomp on my foot like you did." Thank you Sammy for being as nice as you are. Otherwise, you'd never have believed my explanation. "Can we get at least some burgers from a drive in? I already had a cold sandwich today, I really could do without it."

It's hard not to answer with 'yes' right away because he really doesn't want to eat cold sandwiches, either, but the problem is that he's still angry with Sam and he doesn't want to be the one to give in again. A short glance at his brother's pleading puppy eyes, and he knows that he's been whipped into submission. Like that's something new.

"Let's find us a Mc D or some other burger place and get something there." Together, they leave the supermarket again and cross the parking lot to the car.

Once they're sitting and Dean's pulling out of the lot, Sam turns to him. "Why is it that you're so against going to the diner?"

"I'm not against going to the diner. I just want something different, that's all." There's a huge golden M down the street, and Dean keeps on driving in the hope that they have a drive-in as well.

"Come on, you were willing to fight with me about not going there. Something's not right when you're so against going somewhere. Even the Hoodoo Lady doesn't scare you that bad." Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answer to. It is not good to question everything.

The drive-in sign has him turn right, and he pulls into the lane that leads past the restaurant to the back. There are already three cars lined up to get food.

"The diner doesn't scare me." Nothing scares him, except losing his brother and the strange reaction he's developed to Sam.

"But why this objection?" That's a short pause before his brother continues, "Did something happen during breakfast? Don't tell me you fucked that waitress, Trisha, and caused some scene when her boyfriend showed up."

That hurts. Come on Sammy, you ought to think better about your older brother than that. It's not always Dean screwing things up, and this morning's strange encounter at the diner was everything but Dean's fault. It's Paul and Trisha who did the screwing. Not together, but combined.

"I did not cause a scene and I did not fuck the waitress." The car in front of them moves forward and he follows. "I didn't even get the chance to. Someone told her that I'm gay and that I'm already taken. That kinda cramped the flirting."

Another move forward and they're next to order. Dean takes a Big Mac menu and the Chicken Nuggets supersize. Sam just takes a Burger and large fries with an extra-large coke.

"You know who told her that nonsense?" Dean tries to make light because the topic disturbs him for more than one reason. "It was blonde Paul. And he actually told her that you and I are together. Why did he say that we're a couple?"

That's a murmur from Sam's side of the car, and Dean looks over to him. "What did you say?"

"I said that I told him that." Okay, this does not surprise him, no, it completely shocks him. What the fuck? Why would his little brother say something like that?

Only at the second attempt is he able to ask the question he so desperately wants to know. "Why would you do that?"

Because, why would Sam want to make Paul believe that he's together with Dean? Why Dean and not somebody else? The whole thing confuses the hell out of him.

Dean takes the food from the girl at the counter and hands her the money. His brother takes the bags of food and he drives on and out of the drive-in. He wants to park the car to be able to look his little brother in the eye when having this conversation, but he doesn't want to have a talk that private in a public, open space. So, he drives on and in the direction of the Hoodoo shop.

"I did it because he was interested in a whole lot more than I was, and it was a convenient way to get rid of him." Okay, hold it right there. Sam wanted to get rid of blonde Paul? But why would he want to do that?

"But I thought you're bisexual?" Isn't Sam supposed to be chasing after pretty boys like Paul the waiter? Most of all when they're offering.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I want to have sex with every guy I meet." Dean stops at the red traffic light and looks over at his brother.

"No?"

"No." But what's the fun in being bisexual then? It's just not normal that it makes Sam as blue-balled as being heterosexual. His little brother is definitely doing something wrong here.

"So, you still think that guys are hot, just Paul isn't?" Because, seriously, even though Dean isn't gay or bisexual or some other guy-sexual thing, he noticed that Paul is hot. There's no way that Sam didn't notice that fact. Not with his baby brother always being so attentive.

That's a deep and heavy sigh before Dean gets his answer to the question. "No, Paul is hot, but still not what I go for." Come on. What about the come-hither looks and the smiles and all the other stuff? No way was Paul the waiter not to his brother's liking.

"And library dude isn't the right one either." Okay, so who's the right one for Sam? "So, who's your type?"

"Is this conversation of any value and importance?" There's no whine or anger this time, just unnerved with a healthy dose of lecturing. What's so bad about telling your older brother who you think is hot? Dean tells his little brother all the time which chicks get him going. The hot ones, of course. Lot of leg and full breasts. Those are the ones.

"Sure, if I'm going to help you with getting laid, I need to know who does it for you." This time, Sam just shakes his head in disbelief and rests his head against the window. Suck it up, Sammy, and spill it.

"Dean, just, don't help me, okay?" But…

"But…"

"Don't." They arrive at the turn to the back street and Dean parks the Impala. He turns to his little brother and opens his mouth to ask again, but his brother just smacks the bag of food against his chest and takes a bite from his own burger to demonstrate his refusal to talk about the topic any more.

Okay, he can take a hint. The smell of the fresh burger and fries has his mouth watering, and Dean takes the wrapped-up fast food out of the paper bag and starts eating. He can feel his stomach dancing around with joy when his first bite is swallowed down. He's glad that it's not sandwiches they're eating. This is much better.

Another fry disappears into his mouth, and he slowly chews on the it while watching the Laundromat. He can't make out the weird guy, but that's the chick from this morning again, who had cleaned the show window. She's carrying a bag and strolling down the back street to their car.

When she passes by them, he grins conspiratorially at his brother and leers some more after the young woman. This one has a very nice ass and long, long legs. He takes another bite from his Big Mac and ignores his little brother's disapproving eye-roll. Just because she's not a guy? Discriminating.

He's relieved to notice that beside his strange reaction to his brother, he still digs women. That means he's not gay, right? You can't be gay and react to women as well. That's against the principle of the thing.

Content, he finishes the burger and starts in on the chicken nuggets. The food satisfies him, and he sprawls on the seat to get more comfortable. Life can be a bitch sometimes, but it definitely is good at other times. Like now.

The coke cup is almost empty, and he sloshes the small ice cubes around in the watered-down soda. Sucking on the straw to get the last of the drink, Dean glances at his brother and finds Sam watching him. Huh? What now?

He swallows the gulp down and looks back. "So, I'm rather curious. When did you turn bisexual?" He really wants to know how long his little brother has been hiding this.

"One does not 'turn' bisexual. You are or you aren't." That's a Sam lecture in the making. Better to nip it in the bud before it gets too much out of hand.

"Okay, so since when are you bisexual, and no 'you are born that way'. I want to know when you started watching little boys in the showers." Sam needs clear instructions to give useful answers.

That's a flash of disapproval before his little brother washes the fries down with some coke. "The first time I experimented with another guy was with Jason Mitchum."

Whoa! No way. "Dude, I was fucking his sister."

"Yeah, he was giving me my first blow job in the room next to hers." Uh-oh. Mental pictures about that are not what Dean needs to think about. Or rather shouldn't think about. Little Sammy is replaced by his brother's grown-up body and the thought of Sam getting a blowjob and...

He swallows hard before asking: "And what was it like?"

What's the matter with him? Why is he torturing himself like this?

"It sucked." Dean sits up to hide his reaction to the words and puts the almost empty paper bag on his lap. This is not normal. He's not supposed to react like this to his brother. Looking away now would be much too suspicious, so forces himself to keep his eyes on Sam's face and pretend nothing is wrong.

"Well, that's the idea behind it, isn't it?" The last fries are disappearing into his mouth, and the box of Chicken Nuggets is empty. Dean stuffs the garbage into the paper bag and takes the chance to adjust the bag for better coverage.

"But it sucked in more than one way." Fighting hard to think about something, anything, different, Dean grabs his little brother's garbage and stuff it into his bag as well. It's not that he's some kind of neat freak, but it's the Impala, and it's something to do to take his mind of less conventional thoughts and wanderings.

"Okay, let's brave the Hoodoo community of Houma." He climbs out of the car, paper trash bag in hand, and waits for his brother to get out as well. Once Sam has unfolded his large frame from the passenger seat, he locks the Impala, and off they go to the Laundromat.

It's the first time he doesn't have to go there alone, and somehow, knowing that his little brother is around should anything happen is rather comforting. Even if his baby brother is a klutz who needs saving most of the time. It's better than nothing.

The Laundromat is busy again, and the whirring of the washing machines and dryers are, by now, a familiar sound. He throws the garbage in the trash can at the entrance. Dean leads them through the shop and up the dark staircase. The sounds from the shop downstairs get weaker as they get closer to the Hoodoo part of the house.

Once more, he feels a slight flutter of anxiousness as he steps over the brick dust line at the entrance, but like yesterday, nothing happens. This shit really gets to him more than he feels comfortable admitting.

There's nobody in the shop, and he slows down. Okay, so where is the magical Mama Makeba? The aisles between the rows of shelves are empty as well, not a single person in sight. Well, except his little brother, who interestedly takes one thing after the other from the shelves to study them in detail. Such a freak.

"You're back." The sudden voice next to him makes him whip his head around, and he comes face to face with Mama Makeba. "I knew that you'd be back, Dean, and you brought your brother."

"Hi, my name's..."

"Sam, I know." His little brother smiles all excited and nice at the woman and offers to shake her hand. It makes his mind boggle watching the two shake hands like they're good old friends. He's surrounded by freaks. "You and your brother are looking for something in particular?"

"Yeah, we met the spirit of Lily in the swamp last night, and we need your help or advice on how to help her cross back into the realm of the dead." Sam's question is not what Dean wanted to ask. He'd have preferred something along the lines of, 'how can we kill that freak?', but then again, he's not the polite one of the two of them.

"Did she talk to you? Did she try to tell you anything?" No, and she didn't return after I pumped her full of rock salt.

"No. She isn't really the talkative type. She's more of a stalker and lurker." Ignoring the killing part, of course. There's also a major interest of Lily the spirit. Kind of makes a guy reconsider trying to have any deeper or longer conversation with her.

"We found a ritual that entails her leaving on her own. Maybe you know something else that might be of help with the situation?" Ah yes, the dimples and the puppy eyes. His little brother is aiming low if he uses both of them at the same time. It's his secret ultra weapon. There's no one who can resist it, and Mama Makeba is no exception. She smiles kindly at his little brother and starts her walk through the shelves, collecting stuff into a basket.

"I can write down a spell that enables her to pass on if she wants to, and that makes sure that the barrier between the realms is not breached in this place again. It won't help you with the disappearance of Neil Beauregard, though." Yeah, since he's dead, that's not really anything anyone can do but hope that he wasn't in too much pain when he died.

"That's okay. The spell is a lot of help." Sam closely follows their Hoodoo instructor as she collects what they need for the spell. Dean prefers to wait at the counter. He leans against the wood and watches his little brother dog the Hoodoo Lady's every step, asking about some things. He half expects his brother to take out pen and paper and start taking notes. What a geek.

Soon, he's joined by Mama Makeba and Sam at the counter, and while the woman writes down the instructions for the spell and the words, Sam once more studies the goodies they got for the spirit. It's just not normal that his brother gets that happy and excited over this Hoodoo magic stuff.

"Here are the instructions, but be careful. If you do it wrong, you could damage the barrier and that's the possibility that other spirits could cross over." Nice. No pressure at all here. The excitement on Sam's face switches to determination, and Dean knows that by the time they arrive at the swamp, his little brother will have memorised the instructions by heart.

"Thank you for your help." The bag with the utensils is handed over to them, and Sam gives Mama Makeba another dimple smile. Come on, Sammy, that's more than a woman can handle, and Hoodoo Lady isn't the youngest anymore.

Dean says his goodbye with a nod and follows his brother to the exit. Just as he is about to cross the brick dust line, Mama Makeba's farewell has him stop in his tracks.

"Goodbye Dean, and don't forget what I told you the last time." What the...? He turns around, but only finds the empty counter.


	7. Chapter 7

Their drive back to the motel is spent in silence with Sam already going over the spell and the instructions, and Dean wracking his brain to recall what the Hoodoo Lady had told him during his last visit to the store. He had asked about the dead girl, but what had she told him the last time that he ought to remember?

It had been something that had somehow unsettled him. That much he can remember, but not the exact words. He hates stupid cryptic remarks and warnings that actually are of no help to anyone because it's impossible to know what they're all about. Why would someone do that?

He parks the Impala in front of their room, and his brother is out of the car faster than Dean. His brother's on a mission, and with the information they got at the Hoodoo store, he has the means to finish the hunt. And everybody always accused him of having a one-track mind. They clearly hadn't seen his little brother like this.

After throwing the door shut behind him, he shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it over the back of a chair. There are a couple of things they need to do before heading out to the swamp. Hopefully for the last time. Taking a shower is one of those things. It's high time they leave for somewhere with less moisture and heat.

Dean picks up the duffle bag from the floor next to his bed and puts it on the mattress. It only takes some digging before he comes up with a shirt and a new pair of jeans to wear. With a last glance at Sam, who's already packing everything up and memorizing the words for the spell, he goes to the bathroom and closes the door to the bedroom.

The weather is so disgusting that it makes him sweat everywhere. His boots are wet inside, his pants stick to his thighs, and his shirt is plastered to his chest and back. Why can't it be 68 degrees outside? That would be more bearable.

Toeing his boots off, Dean pulls the sweat-soaked t-shirt over his head and drops it on the floor. His jeans are next, and then his boxer briefs.

He grabs the soap from the sink and gets into the shower. The water that pours down and over his grimy body is paradise. It at least feels like it. For a couple of minutes, he just stands there and lets the water sluice down his body, taking the worst of the sweat and dirt with it. Then he starts with the serious washing.

The shower feels so good that his dick takes an interest in the process, and he spends a good amount of time slowly stroking and massaging his erection. His thoughts follow equally pleasant paths, and images of hands roaming his body and fondling his cock appear inside his head. Dean braces one hand against the wet tiles and follows the thoughts some more.

The hands are taking care of him with a gentleness that is surprising in its determination. It's as if they broke no intervention or directions from Dean's part, and so he just let's them do whatever they want to because his dad raised no fool.

His imaginary self is suddenly held down and, to his absolute shock, his little brother's face and body are suddenly attached to the hands. Well, the size of the paws should have been a dead give away, but he hadn't thought about it before. With a morbid fascination and a healthy dose of helplessness, he watches dream-Sam spread his legs and settle down between them.

The gigantic hands stroke his thighs up until they reach his lap, where they continue their previous occupation of pumping and massaging Dean's cock.

In reality, he hurries his pace up, and he feels his whole body tense as he nears his orgasm. He fights hard to keep from panting, because no way does he want his little brother to be aware of what he's doing. Not with the thoughts he's having while doing it.

Some more tugs and both dream-Dean and his real self are coming hard. In a stupor, he watches the shower wash the remnants of his come from the tiles and the porcelain tub.

What did he do? He jerked off to thoughts of his brother giving him a hand job.

Dean rubs his hands over his face and forces himself to take deep and calming breaths. This is not good. This is worse than not good. This is a catastrophe.

Numb with shock, he turns off the water and gets out of the tub. He grabs the slightly damp bath towel from the rack and towels himself down on autopilot. Next are his clean clothes, and he puts them on without giving it any thought, like he's in a trance.

When it comes to getting out of the bathroom, though, Dean can't go out there and face his brother. He doesn't know what to do about what happened just now, and there's no way he can talk to Sam and look at him without thinking about the images that were in his mind minutes ago.

He feels dirty again, but no amount of showers will be able to make him feel clean again. Dean sits down on the toilette seat and hangs his head. This is so not what he ever expected to happen. He knew when Bobby asked them to go to Louisiana that something was bound to happen.

And now it had. First his little brother revealing that he's bisexual, and now this strange obsession he's developed with his baby brother.

He tries to think hard about Paul the Blondie going down on him, but the thought does absolutely nothing for him. So it's not guys in general, just Sam. Well, that's not really a reassurance. He'd have preferred suddenly turning into a complete fruitcake to this attraction he feels towards his brother.

The sudden sound of the door being opened has him look up and he finds Sam looking in.

"Hey, um, are you alright? Why are you sitting here?" Oh, Sammy, you really do not want to know. And there's no way I'm going to tell you.

"Everything's alright." He gets up and makes to leave the room, but his little brother's blocking the door. "Anything you need?"

There's a strange look on his baby brother's face, but it disappears almost as fast as it appeared, and Sam shakes his head. It takes some maneuvering before they've switched positions, and Dean finds himself facing a closed bathroom door, from the outside this time.

Tiredly, he strolls over to the table and plops down into the chair in front of the Hoodoo instruction paper. He ought to read the instructions as well to make sure he's properly prepared, but the thing is that concentrating is kind of hard with the thoughts that are currently running through his head.

It just makes no sense. Why would he feel attracted to his brother? Sure Sam, is good-looking in the cute and dorky kind of way and he has a great body, but he's his brother, so there never has been and never should be any attraction involved.

His reactions in the morning and at the supermarket parking lot could be reasoned away with friction and anger, but the way he had reacted to his brother's answer in the car and Dean's wanking fantasies in the shower can't be explained and dismissed that easily.

He can hear the sound of the shower and fights really hard not to think about what that sound entails.

Dean forces himself to pack the things that are on the table up so that they can leave as soon as his little brother's finished his shower. Once the spirit is taken care of and they're on their way to another hunt, things will change back to normal. Well, as normal as they get for him and Sam. No incestuous thoughts and desires are a good start on normal.

In addition to the spell and the utensils they got at the Hoodoo shop, he finds scribbles notes on a sketch pad that sound very similar to what is written on Mama Makeba's instructions. Apparently, this is the ritual Sam and Bobby dug up together. After a second thought, he puts it into the exorcism kit they already have. Better safe than sorry.

Just as he closes the bag, the bathroom door opens and Sam comes out. He's toweling his wet mop of hair with one hand while the other holds a much-too-small bath towel closed over his hips. Oh no. Dean turns away quickly and pretends to clean something on the table up.

The thing is that there's nothing on it, and the constant staring at the table is more conspicuous than him staring at his half-naked brother. Well, maybe he can make it to his own bed without catching a glimpse of his little brother.

Another deep breath, and up we go. Dean turns back towards the room and gets up from the chair and… his brother is already dressed with his back to Dean. Sometimes, even Dean gets lucky.

Okay, he has to do something now that he's gotten up. Standing around and ogling his brother isn't exactly what he's supposed to do. A look down at his feet reveals that socks and shoes are still needed to be fully prepared for the spirit hunting.

Finally, something that he can do without the danger of embarrassing himself in front of his baby brother. Dean crosses the room and bends down over his duffel bag on the bed. Some digging awards him with a clean pair of socks, and his boots are still in the bathroom where he toed them off.

The air in the small room is foggy from the hot water, and the tiles are covered with moisture. He digs under his dirty clothes that are still in a pile next to the toilette and picks up his slightly damp boots. Well, nothing to be done about their state now. He'll have to put them up to dry during the night.

"Okay, are we ready to go?" He finds his little brother once more obsessing over his hair. Come on, Sammy, there's nothing you can do about the floppiness that is your hair. He watches, amused for a minute or two at how his little brother tries to find a way to make his hair look at least stylish before he gives up and just lets it be.

"Yeah, we can go." Great. Spirit Girl now, and after that, in the morning, goodbye Houma. He can't wait for the evening and night to be over.

Dean grabs his stuff and his leather jacket and follows his brother out of the motel room. Sam has the goodie bag over his shoulder and waits next to the Impala for his older brother to unlock the car. They get in and Dean starts the engine.

"We have everything we need?" Another glance into the bag reveals that everything is there, and off they go. By now, the drive to the swamp is rather familiar.

The houses pass by, the road leads out to the country, and they drive down the way that leads into the bayou. For the third time in a little over twenty-four hours, they park the Impala at the small meadow. The weather isn't any different from last night, but Dean couldn't care less because this is the last time they have to come here.

He waits for his little brother to fold his large frame out of the car and then locks the doors. At the trunk, he pops the hood and opens the top of the lower compartment. He takes the duffle bag from last night out, and takes his flash light and the shot gun with rock salt. A hand reaches in and grabs the second flashlight.

They're as prepared as they will ever be for this spirit. The trunk is locked, and off they go. The fucking mosquitoes are all beside themselves with joy as he and his brother trot down the path to the spot where they saw the spirit last night.

It almost seems like the fucking insects are increasing with every step they take, and soon Dean swears that they're a plague from hell sent especially to torture him. He swipes and swats at them, but there are just too many.

Dean stops and slaps at his neck, where there must be about one hundred mosquitoes. He hates those fucking blood suckers.

"Here." Huh? He looks at the bottle his little brother holds out to him and reads the label. An insect repellant. Well, that would explain why the stupid mosquitoes seem to only bother him and not his brother.

"Thanks." He starts to spray his face, neck, throat and hands. Slowly, the number of insects decreases, and about five minutes later, all of the stupid mosquitoes are gone. He smiles gratefully at Sam, who smiles back, and off they are again.

With the twilight they have at the moment, the roots and twigs on the path are easier to see than last night, so Dean spends less time watching every step he takes and scans their surrounding. It's a strange place. Even though it's not as creepy as it is during the night, the place looks like it's not natural.

Their hike leads them to the thicket where the police cleared the path to the place of the abduction, and they follow it to the turn where it leads down to the water.

There are no bikes and kids this time, so they start setting up their Hoodoo spell. Sam arranges the whole thing while Dean scans the place with the EMF meter he took out of the duffle bag. Nothing. Not even a beep. It's rather odd that there's nothing he can pick up. He walks deeper into the thicket and follows it down to the little clearing where he found the snake skin the first time around.

The foot prints he found the last time are almost completely gone, and there's nothing else to be found here.

As he makes his way back to his brother, he keeps a watch out for the gigantic snake they saw last night, but the huge reptile stays away this time. He finds Sam setting up the candle and then taking a step back to get a better look at the set-up.

"Everything like it's supposed to be?" Dean can't find anything that seems to be wrong. But then again, he didn't memorize the ritual, so there's no way he can know for sure that everything's alright.

"Yeah, everything's set up. I'd say we start with the séance and call Lily to us." Okay, party time it is.

"Sure, let's get the whole thing started." Dean takes a step back and grabs the shot gun to be prepared should anything go seriously wrong. "Do your magic Hoodoo thing."

Sam lights one candle after another and steps back from the circle he's laid out. There's some sprinkling of water and some wafting of incense involved, and his little brother says the formula that the Hoodoo Lady wrote down for them.

The whole time he watches the trees and the water, waiting for something to happen. He feels damn vulnerable, like a sitting target. The fact that they can't really harm the girl doesn't really make him feel any better about the situation at hand.

A flicker in the circle Sam created has him focusing on the things his brother is doing. There's another flicker, and suddenly they're facing the girl again. It looks the same as last night, and his grip tightens on the shot gun, his finger pressing against the trigger. How he would love to pump it full of rock salt. This whole talking and bargaining with the dead girl is so not a good idea.

"Lily, I called you here to offer my help to get you back to your own realm." His little brother is apparently not that convinced about the whole idea either, because he glances back at Dean to ensure that his back's covered. "We can guide you back if you want to leave this world."

There's no reaction from the spirit to his little brother's offer. The milky eyes stare right past Sam at Dean. The sightless stare unnerves him somewhat, and he forces the tightness in his throat away. This is not the time to get intimidated by a fucking ghost.

"Lily, do you hear what I'm saying? Answer my question." His brother steps closer to the circle, and Dean follows to make sure he's right there should something go wrong.

This time, the dead girl turns her head towards Sam, and it's his little brother who's the focus of her stare. For a couple of seconds, neither of them does anything. Just as Dean thinks about shooting the fucking spirit, the dead girl nods at his brother.

What's that supposed to mean? Yes, I can hear you, or yes, ban me back to hell, where I came from? What is it with vengeful spirits? Is it some law of the dead to make no sense?

"Lily, do you want to return to your own realm?" This time, there's an immediate reaction to his brother's question, and the nod has both him and Sam relax somewhat. At least the spirit doesn't try to attack them. And should she really want to go back, they might be done with the whole thing faster than they expected.

Sam starts to give instructions to the girl, and he continues with the spell for the pathway that will enable the spirit to pass between the barrier. Dean just stays back and watches on.

The ease with which his little brother works the magic needed for the ritual makes Dean a little uncomfortable. Even though he's worked magic in the past as well, his brother takes to it like a fish to water. Like he's not all natural himself. But that's nonsense. His brother is as normal as Dean is.

He notices the absence of sound. That's odd. Last night there'd been a concerto of sounds, and today there's complete silence. Probably because of the magic. Must scare the animals and make them shut their traps.

After another scan of their surroundings, he continues to watch his brother and the dead girl. Sam sprinkles some powder they got from Mama Makeba into the flames of the candles and repeats the spell over and over.

All the while the spirit stares at Dean, and he forces himself to look back. No way he's going to lose a staring match against a fucking vengeful spirit. He's the bane of everything supernatural.

His brother is just finishing his second turn around the circle when the fucking thing talks.

"Don't be afraid." What the fuck? He accidentally takes a step back. "Believe in yourself."

And suddenly he remembers. It's what the Hoodoo lady said the first time he visited her. But how come the dead girl knows what she said? He steps closer to the circle to ask her what she's talking about, but Sam finishes his last turn, and suddenly she's gone.

"What the fuck! What did you do that for?" The look he gets from his brother is one of pure confusion.

"Dean?" Don't 'Dean' me, little brother. It's not really smart sending her over before they get any chance to ask her what she was talking about just now.

"Why didn't you stop the spell? How are we supposed to ask her what she meant now that she's joined the dead community on the other side?" Okay, so even more confusion on Sam's face, but this time it's mixed with actual worry.

"Dean, she didn't say a word." Right.

"The fuck she didn't. I heard her talk like I hear you talking now." There's no way his brother didn't hear the dead girl, he was much closer to her than Dean to begin with.

"No, Dean, I swear, she didn't say a word the whole time." But that's just not possible. He had heard the words. There's no way he just imagined them, right? Suddenly, he sees himself sitting in some mental institution, drooling and talking to imaginary people.

Uh, not good.

"You, sure you didn't hear her talk?" Because he could swear that she did talk just before she did the disappearing act. True, it had been cryptic babble, but it had been talk.

"Yeah, I'm sure." He frowns but nods at his little brother. "Dean, are you okay?"

That's actually a good question. Evaluating the last thirty hours, he's everything but okay, and somehow he can't shake the feeling that there's more to come. Like it's waiting around the bend to jump him whenever he expects it the least.

"Sure, I'm fine." He hides his confusion and slight worry behind a cocky grin and claps his little brother on the back. "Well done Sammy, you charmed her into leaving without any fuss."

"Yeah, well, she didn't need a lot of convincing." Sam starts picking up their accessories from the séance and the spell. "I'm surprised she was so willing to go along with the spell. I expected her to be less agreeable to the whole idea."

"I won't complain about that fucking hunt ending so well. It was bitchy enough in the beginning." He picks the duffle bag up and puts the shot gun into it. No need for it anymore now. Next are his and Sam's flash lights. There's still more than enough light to get back to the car without them.

He waits for his brother to pack up all of the stuff he used for the ritual, and they start their trek back down the path to the Impala. The change in light makes it slightly more difficult to step over every root and avoid all obstacles, but the rush from a hunt successfully finished gives an energetic bounce to his walk.

Halfway to the car, he notices the tentative chirping and croaking that returns and sets the audio background for the swamp once again. All's well again in bayou land.

He can feel the grin that has to be on his face. One more supernatural fucker down, and once again, the Winchester brothers end a successful hunt. It feels great to take on the unknown and come away the winner. It feels like a rush, and sometimes Dean thinks about it as his own type of drug. It's deadly and hard to get by, but it's so worth the rush he gets from toasting or shooting one of the undead or supernatural bastards that think they can do whatever they want.

At the car, he unlocks the trunk and dumps the duffle bag in the upper compartment. There'll be enough time to put everything away later on. He closes and locks the trunk and they get into the car. For a couple of seconds, he sits there and looks out of the windshield, and then he turns to look at his little brother.

There's a thoughtful look on his brother's face. What now?

"Anything wrong?" Because they are finished here. They can get away from this weird place, which is another reason why Dean feels like he's won the lottery.

"I think it's strange that you heard her talk and I didn't." Okay. So Sam needs the next puzzle to solve. Why can't his brother ever take a break?

"Come on, maybe I just thought she was talking, but it was nothing." He really doesn't want to spend anymore time thinking about this fucked up hunt. True, it would be interesting to know what the dead girl and Hoodoo lady had been talking about, but the need to get away from here is stronger than his curiosity about the meaning of the cryptic remarks.

"Sure." Come on, Sammy. Let's file this one under done and move on to the next gig, or maybe they might actually get the small break he's been talking about for some time now. "What did she tell you?"

Okay, not filed yet.

"She told me to not be afraid and to believe in myself." Dean doesn't tell him that Mama Makeba gave him the same advice, though. There would be no end to this otherwise.

"That's odd. What did she mean by that?" If I knew that, little brother, I wouldn't have wanted to linger some more and have her explain what she said. His brother asks the most unnecessary questions sometimes.

"How should I know? Maybe she just wanted to mess with our heads." He starts the car and backs up to turn the car around and get them on their way back to the motel. "Spirits and dead folks tend to like doing things like that."

"Still, I think it's strange that only you were able to hear her." Yeah, it's strange, but he really doesn't care about it now. All he wants now is sleep, and tomorrow morning, an early departure from Houma to get them away from this place as fast as possible.

The drive is quiet since his little brother has drifted off to sleep, and Dean doesn't want to wake him up with the cassette tapes. He glances at his brother's sleeping face every few minutes and notices the crease between the eyebrows. It looks like his little brother's frowning at something in his dream. Sam's probably dreaming about having an argument with Dean.

That thought amuses him, and Dean realizes that he misses the fun and the lightness that was present in the past. It's true that their job is not really of the happy and entertaining type, but still, they'd been able to laugh about stuff constantly. This has changed, and Dean just wishes the shred of innocence of the past back.

After he's parked the car in front of the motel room, he stays seated and keeps watching his brother. This hunt was a disaster from the beginning on. First the revelation about Sam being bisexual and his brother's defensiveness about the topic. Then the problem with them disagreeing about the alternative approach to spirit removal. He's got to hand it to his little brother, the trick worked fine. The biggest disaster, though, is his own reaction he's developed to his little brother.

It's just that he can't explain where this comes from. He's never had sex with another guy, and even though he realizes that some guys are better looking than others, he never got turned on by one. So how is it that his dorky brother with the floppy hair has him all hot and bothered without even trying? Never forget that Sam's his baby brother he's known ever since Sammy was born twenty-three years ago.

He reaches out and strokes the hair away from his brother's sleeping face. There are so many memories connected to this face, and more than one of them is painful and sad, but still, there is no one he feels stronger about than his little brother. No one is more important. Never was and never will be.

Another minute of watching Sam, and Dean reaches over and gently nudges his little brother to wake him up. The hazel eyes crack open and there is a sleepy heaviness in them. Without a word, they climb out of the car, and Dean locks it while Sam slowly shuffles to the door and gets into the room.

Dean throws the door shut behind him and throws his jacket over the chair that's nearest to him. In passing, he sees his brother settle down in his bed and fall right back asleep.

He decides that this is the right way to go about things and only toes off his boots and socks before shrugging out of his jeans. He crawls under the covers and lets his body sink into the mattress. This is heaven, and it will get better once they're on the road again.

There's the light sound of snoring from his brother's side of the room, and he closes his eyes with a content smile. Everything will be just great. He knows that. And with this thought, he falls asleep as well.

 

**The End**


End file.
